Keeping the Faith
by kwater
Summary: This time it was Sam who held his brother's fate in his hands and Sam hated it. If he had a choice he would be the one in the back seat, ripped into shreds by a werewolf.
1. Chapter 1

Sam squinted in the dark, trying to make sense of the road before him. The headlights of the Impala barely made a dent in the surrounding darkness. As his eyes flashed nervously toward the rearview mirror, he silently cursed fate.

The sight of his brother slumped on the rear seat, while blood poured from his chest was a little too familiar. It brought back a million memories that Sam had hoped to forget. All he needed was John sitting in the passenger seat to complete the nightmare.

The fact that his brother's fate rested squarely in his hands was killing him. If Sam had his choice, he'd happily exchange places. Lying ripped to shreds by a werewolf, not to mention freezing from exposure to an icy mountain stream, sounded ideal compared to trying to find Dean help in the middle of a flood of biblical proportions. Unfortunately, the elder hunter hadn't put it up for discussion before he had taken it upon himself to throw his body in front of Sam just as the creature had sprung.

A reflection of light on the black macadam had Sam suddenly stepping on the brake. Well, standing on the brake would probably be a more apt description, given the flood of water he'd had already driven through tonight. Once the vehicle had been brought to a shuddering halt, he put the car in park and tried to make sense of what he could see through the windshield. With a curse, he stepped from the car, into a deluge of rain and walked forward.

The headlights clearly illuminated the stream of water that was sweeping across the road. Sam edged forward, until the soles of his boots were submerged. He strained his eyes, trying to calculate the force of the current. The flood, running fast and furious, carried all kinds of debris. Tree limbs, brush, two by fours, trash and as Sam watched, even the bloated body of a rabbit.

Frustration and fury caused him to curse once more as he pounded his fist on the hood of the Impala. He had been herded in this direction by area wide flooding and now he found himself trapped. Even if Dean's car was part boat and could manage the deep water, the current was likely to push the Impala off the road and down the steep shoulder.

Sam walked back to the car, ignoring the rain that ran in rivers down his back and face. A quick swipe with his jacket sleeve worked to clear his vision if only for a moment. His own discomfort was something easily ignored compared to the thought of Dean dying in the backseat of his beloved Impala.

They needed shelter and they needed it now. He had the supplies to help his brother, if only he could find at least the basic necessities. Heat, at the moment, topped the list.

He paused beside the driver's side door, the fear he had failed his brother nearly overwhelming him. Needing a moment to compose himself, he turned toward the road they had just traveled. There had to be something, anything. A house, a shack, something that would be dry, or, at the very least, wasn't actively flooded.

It was then a movement, in the woods bordering the road, caught his eye. Sam eased his handgun from the small of his back and waited. The car's headlights barely pierced the thick underbrush, making it difficult to pinpoint the danger. Then the rustle of leaves drew his attention toward a small clearing only thirty feet from where he stood. There, staring back at him was a pair of eyes.

As Sam met the reflective gaze, he considered simply shooting. After all, the eyes that glowed in his direction were obviously not human. That combined with the werewolf still roaming the area had him lifting his gun and taking a bead on the animal. Given the Winchesters version of luck, Sam knew that safe was definitely better than sorry.

As if understanding his intention, the creature suddenly darted toward him. Sam stood steady, drawing the creature closer, intent on making his shot count. Focused on the shot, it took a couple seconds for Sam to understand what the creature's high-pitched bark meant.

At last, it sank in, causing him to lower his weapon as he watched a large black and silver dog bound to the edge of the road with series of barks and growls. Even Sam's limited amount of dog experience let him appreciate the lack of threat in the animal's movement and noises. The huge creature was actually dancing in place, with a doggy grin that was undeniable.

A burst of hope flared up inside Sam as he watched the capering. Even in the dim light provided by the headlights, he could see that the dog was well cared for. He showed no signs of neglect or abuse and even wore a bright blue collar around his thick neck. A collar meant the dog belonged to someone, a collar meant they might be closer to civilization than Sam had thought.

Unconcerned with the wetness of the road, Sam tucked away his gun and took a knee. Before he could call the dog to his side, the brute charged him, sliding neatly to a halt only inches from the young hunter. Another whine and a head-butt, nearly strong enough to knock Sam off balance, made it clear that the pup was happy to meet him.

Sam couldn't help but chuckle as he reached out and drug his hand through the dog's thick black coat. "Hey, there, boy. You lost?" Sam asked as he moved to grab the blue collar.

Before he could get a grip, the dog gave another low whine and darted away. "Easy," Sam breathed as he inched toward the animal again. For every step he took forward, the beast took two backward. Each time the hunter paused, the dog would stop.

It wasn't until a particularly rough gust of wind slammed Sam, that he realized he was over fifty feet from the car. The water he'd earlier considered driving through was now lapping at the front tires of Impala. Dog forgotten, Sam turned and trotted back toward the car. He couldn't help but berate himself for allowing the animal to capture his interest while Dean suffered.

He was level with the bumper of the car when he felt a tug on the sleeve of his jacket. Surprise caused him to stop, as he glanced down to find the dog latched onto his arm. As soon as he stopped, the animal began to tug, forcing Sam backward.

Anger began to override his earlier interest in the dog. With a curse that would have made Dean proud, he tried to jerk his arm free only to have the dog tighten its grip.

Anxiety for his brother had Sam reaching for his gun once more. He didn't intend to shoot Fido, but he was certain a couple shots in the air would be more than enough to scare the creature off. Sam never got the chance.

Just as he went for the gun, the dog released him. The sudden lack of pressure had the youngest Winchester flailing to catch his balance as he stumbled backward. A last ditch effort to avoid taking a header into the undergrowth had Sam reaching out to grab anything that would halt his momentum.

His hand brushed against a cold metal shape. With a groan of effort, Sam latched onto the object and just barely managed to keep his feet. Cursing the dog, the rain, his stubborn older brother and everything else he could think of, Sam paused for a moment trying to catch his breath.

He stood still, resting his cheek against the rectangular shape that he was hugging for a full minute before he understood just what he'd grabbed. Unable to see, he used his hands to confirm that he had indeed fallen into a mailbox. Following his line of thought, Sam dropped to the ground and began to run his hands over the ground looking for some small sign that they were saved. There, he thought, as his hands dragged over the familiar feel of blacktop. He'd found a driveway.

A low bark drew his attention away from his find toward the dog's black shape. The animal seemed poised to run, but hesitant to leave. As Sam sprinted toward the car and his brother, he was thankful for the dog's sudden appearance. If not for the creature, he would never have noticed the driveway.

Focused on finding help, Sam slipped into the driver's side and said, "Sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to be gone so long, but I think I found us help."

Dean's lack of reply didn't even register as Sam slammed the car into reverse and backed the big machine down the road. Once he drew even with the dog, who was neatly marking the opening, he hit the brake and changed gears.

He refused to allow himself to consider that the help he so desperately needed might not be at the end of the long dark driveway. What if's would do Dean no good, and besides Sam was out of options.

As soon as he nosed the car onto the drive, the dog took off. In the lead, he ran full out, drawing Sam deeper into the dark woods. At first, as the car began to dip downward, he feared he had exchanged the fat for the fire. It seemed unlikely that the flooding, which was so widespread, wouldn't have blocked his access.

However, no sooner had the thought occurred to him, they began to climb. The blacktop snaked out in front of the Impala leading them higher and higher. The dog raced full out, his head low to the ground as his legs drove him on faster and faster.

Hesitation had Sam keeping pace with the animal. He was certain the dog would have surrendered its spot on the roadway if he pushed, but something about the dog had him keeping his speed in check.

At last, the ground leveled out. Taking the next curve a bit too fast, Sam was forced to slam on the breaks when the drive suddenly opened up into a large parking area. On the far side of the lot, facing the driveway sat a rustic looking log cabin.

The house was aglow with light, a warm buttery color that had Sam feeling warmer just for seeing it. A wide front porch dominated the cabin and a set of steps led down to a short path. The dog now stood on the top step, as if waiting for Sam to get a move on. Ready to do just that, the young hunter pulled up as close as he could to the stairs and shut down the car.

Experience urged him to do some recon before he hauled his brother out into the cold night air. He had no clue what his welcome would be, or if it was even safe. Fear, however, overrode his good sense as he quickly climbed out and opened the rear door.

It had been nearly thirty minutes since he'd fished Dean out of the water and the thin blanket his brother was wrapped in wasn't enough. He would get help, and regardless of what the owners might think, he'd be getting it here.

"Come on, bro," Sam ground out as he slid Dean's limp form from the back seat.

Dean's answering groan caused Sam to harden his determination. He put his shoulder to his brother's waist and shifted his weight heaving his brother's ice-cold body into a fireman's carry. He hated causing Dean pain, but he needed a free hand just in case he met resistance at the door.

As he started up the stairs, the dog began to growl. His cries grew more and more intense the closer Sam came. Wary of the dog's behavior, Sam drew his gun and resettled his brother. Dean's shaking form had Sam more than ready to do whatever was necessary to get him help.

However, the dog surprised him once more. As Sam stepped onto the porch, the animal made no effort to stop him. Instead, he walked alongside of the hunter, stopping only once they were both standing in front of the huge wooden door.

Before Sam could knock, the dog carefully wrapped its mouth around a rope that hung suspended next to the door. Two quick tugs of its mouth had the small bell that the rope was attached to ringing out in a peal.

A moment later the door swung wide. Sam noted the young woman standing in its opening, framed by an amber glow, and suddenly felt lightheaded. The wave of warmth that seeped out of the opening quickly convinced him that he'd done the right thing. Voluntary or not, they'd finally found shelter.

888

With a contented sigh, Faith sank deeper into her overstuffed chair and basked in the heat that was pouring out of the large stone fireplace. The fireplace, the focal point for the entire room, was a godsend given the cold damp that kept trying to seep into the sturdy log house.

The freezing April rain had been falling for close to three days now, flooding the entire area and causing power outages in most of the county. Normally active, she couldn't help but enjoy the enforced idleness. She'd spent her days, content in the knowledge that her generator was gassed up and good to go, reading and relaxing.

Though, the mound of fluff that purred contentedly near her feet seemed happy to oblige her lazy mood, her dog had insisted on a bit more excitement. Frisky, her Alaskan malamute, had gone out over a half-hour ago for her evening ramble and had yet to return.

The dog's tardiness didn't worry her too much. Faith's cabin was the only sign of civilization for miles around and Frisky had proven to be much too sensible to engage in trouble. In fact, the dog rarely wandered farther than the clear patch of land that surrounded the house unless Faith was with her.

Confident that Frisky was most likely curled up under the porch enjoying the cool air. Faith leaned forward and gently prodded the lump that lay sprawled across the braided rug. "Up and at 'em, Church. I've gotta toss another log on."

Rather than stand, the cat rubbed his whiskered face against Faith's hand and increased his purring.

"Nope, no smooth talking me. You've gotta move unless you want us all to freeze tonight," Faith chided even as she scratched the cat's chin.

Church, never one to pass up an opportunity for some loving, stretched out his massive paws, and began to knead the blanket beneath him.

Faith couldn't help but chuckle as her fingers became wet with drool. "You know drooling when you purr is a nasty habit. You ought to do something about that."

The cat seemed unconcerned with Faith's reprimand as his drooling increased along with his purring. Content for the moment to lavish some affection on her obviously love starved pet, Faith nearly jumped out of her skin when the porch bell began to ring.

"Okay, you dopey, cat. Now you have to let me up." Faith's words suited her motion as she gained her feet, careful not to step on the cat that was now meowing for more attention.

As the bell sounded once more, Faith had to grin. Like most of the tricks Frisky knew, teaching her to ring the doorbell had been fairly easy and it never failed to make Faith smile.

Throwing the door open wide, Faith called out, "Okay, okay you, big mutt, you done playin'-?"

Faith choked off the words as she realized that Frisky wasn't alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam shifted slightly as he took in the young woman that choked off her greeting as she took in the hunter's appearance on her porch. Careful to keep his weapon out of sight, Sam spoke.

"I need help."

His words, coming out harsher than he intended, caused the woman to jump slightly. Though he wasn't sure why, after all it had to be pretty apparent that he needed help given his brother's body lying prone across his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" the girl asked as she continued to stand sentry in the doorway.

Sam bit back a curse and shifted slightly his movement drawing a low groan from Dean. His brother was no lightweight and the night's events were beginning to take their toll. "My brother was attacked by an animal. He's hurt and cold, and the road's completely flooded. I saw your dog and followed him here."

"It's a her," the woman corrected absently.

Just then, the dog must have decided enough was enough. She moved toward the doorway and nudged the lady out of the way creating a path inside and disappeared.

Sam felt like doing the same, and refrained only by shear will. He knew Dean would be better off with this woman's help.

The dog's motion seemed to shock her out of her stupor as she suddenly stepped back, opening the door even wider. "Come in, please."

Upon entering the warmth of the cabin, a chill ran up Sam's spine, causing his teeth to chatter. He was so cold and the room was so warm he felt certain he and his brother's presence would cause fog.

"Is there somewhere I can lay him down?" Sam asked, hesitant to drop his brother on the couch.

The woman stared at him for a moment, her hand resting lightly on the dog's thick black coat before she at last nodded. "Sorry, follow me."

Sam gratefully followed as he murmured to his brother, "You're gonna be fine, Dean. I promise."

888

Faith had lost count of how many times Frisky had drawn her attention to some poor creature in need. A lover by nature, the dog hated seeing anything in pain, be it animal or human. When out in public the beast would often seek out people she felt needed help. Whether it was physical or emotional in nature, Frisky seemed to have a knack for soothing the injured.

Faith and the big dog often volunteered at the local hospital. The two of them would go from room to room visiting the patients. Faith knew how much joy the silver and black dog brought to everyone she met. The overgrown puppy seemed to know when an enthusiastic greeting was called for, or if she could help more simply by allowing herself to be pet.

As Faith struggled to decide just how much danger the strangers posed, she couldn't help but notice Frisky's relaxed attitude. The dog lounged against Faith's side, obviously at ease. No doubt the beast was proud of herself for having gotten the men this far. Faith wasn't quite as blasé.

Sympathy for the man that had pleaded their case warred with an ingrained instinct for survival. What tipped her hand at last was the sound of a sudden deluge of rain cascading off the porch roof. At this point sending the men away was akin to killing them. Even if the roads were passable, which they weren't, the nearest shelter to be had was forty minutes away.

Opening the door wider, Faith stepped back. "Come in please."

Bringing a chill with them that raised goose bumps on her arm, the men stepped inside. Until this moment, she hadn't realized just how cold it had gotten outside.

"Is there somewhere I can lay him down?"

The gruff voice startled Faith, making her realize she was standing there staring into space. "Sorry, follow me," she mumbled as she led the way to the spare bedroom.

As soon as she moved, Frisky gave a low growl and headed for the chair Faith had recently vacated. In a minute, she was curled up in a tight ball and snoring softly. Frisky's easy acceptance of the strangers presence helped push away all of Faith's lingering doubts. Over the last five years, Frisky had proven time and again that she was a better judge of people than Faith.

She quickly led the way toward the spare bedroom, the stranger following on silent feet behind her. "You can lay him in the spare bedroom. I'm sorry but there's no way to get him medical attention at the moment."

"I just need water, and some blankets to get him warmed up. I can handle the rest," The young man replied confidently.

As she pushed open the door to her second bedroom, she flicked on the wall switch and moved toward the twin bed closest to the door. There she quickly drew back the amber coverlet and sheets.

"He's filthy, he'll ruin your sheets. Do you have something to put down first?"

Faith smiled softly and insisted, "Its fine." Given the fact that she'd lived here for years and had yet to have any company she really wasn't worried about the state of her sheets.

With a slight groan, the man eased his burden carefully down to the bed and reminded her, "The front door's open."

The reminder sent Faith hurrying out of the room and down the hall. She quickly moved to shut the large, solid log door and flip the lock into place. The storm and her two 'guests' had her feeling uneasy.

As she stood, listening to the muffled sounds of the storm. Wind lashed against the windows and rain drummed against the roof, the generators low growl added to the noise making it impossible for her to ignore the storms ferocity.

With a shake of her head, she reeled in her thoughts and chided herself for allowing a simple storm to get to her. This isn't the first one she'd weathered, and she was certain it wouldn't be the last.

Determined to get herself in hand, she quickly set about putting water on to boil.

888

Dean groaned as a bright white pain flared in his right hand. Ignoring the urge to slip back into nothingness, he forced his eyes open and met his brother's worried gaze.

It took only a moment for the day's events to catch up to him and slam him with a river of guilt. He had no one other than himself to blame for their current circumstances. What was worse, he had little doubt that his brother would remind him of that very fact just as soon as he was on his feet. Whenever that was, Dean thought, as he tried to stop his body from quaking with cold.

It had been his idea to go after the werewolf despite the storms that had ravaged the area for the past couple of days. Dean's fear that tracking the creature, given the vast amount of open ground, would be hard, had proven unfounded when they managed to stumble across the creature within the first two hours.

Dean's only explanation for the ease with which they'd found the monster had been the fact that it was likely hungry, given the rural setting it was in. So far, Dean and Sam had attributed only three human deaths to the creature. That was relatively low for a werewolf.

His brother had speculated that there simply wasn't enough time in the lunar cycle to stumble across all that many people. That was great for the nearest town, but unfortunate for the local wildlife.

Sam had come across no less than four articles ranging over the last five months citing odd animal disappearances and mutilations. Tonight, while stalking the creature through the forest, they had passed no less than three deer and even a black bear, gutted and left to rot.

Despite Sam's warning about area wide flooding, Dean had managed to talk his baby brother into heading out for some recon. Great job, Dean thought, as he worked to still his chattering teeth.

He had turned toward Sam, intending to call off the search when he'd seen the werewolf. It stood less than four feet behind Sam, ready to spring. Without thought, he had reached out and grabbed the younger Winchester, using the momentum gained from pulling Sam to propel himself toward the creature.

The creature's claws had torn through first his jacket, and then his skin. The pain hadn't been too bad at the time. He had ignored it as he rammed into the snarling mass with all the force of a NFL linebacker.

At impact, he and the creature had tumbled into the swollen river that wound its way through the forest. Hitting the water had done what the werewolf could not. Dean had passed out cold, coming to only after he came to a halt, wedged against an outcropping of rock. Freezing and trying desperately to locate Sam in the gloom, Dean had used the last of his strength to crawl over the rocks to semi dry land.

That was the last thing he could remember before coming to in this dimly lit room. "Sammy, what's going on?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam leaned closer, worry causing his brows to meet in a v above his forehead. "Hold on, Dean. I'm gonna get you cleaned up and dry in a minute."

Determined not to add to Sam's worries, Dean concentrated on keeping his shivers to a minimum as his brother helped him undress. Dean's control was tested when Sam took a moment to prod at the long furrows that ran down his chest.

"I have water heating," a feminine voice suddenly said.

Dean couldn't help but stiffen as a woman slipped into the room. "Where the hell are we?" Dean asked, wishing the words had come out stronger.

"The roads are all flooded," Sam explained as he continued his administrations. "I...came across this house and..."

Here Sam paused as he turned to the woman behind him. "I'm sorry I didn't get your name?"

The redheaded woman gave Dean a tense smile. "My name's Faith."

Sam nodded and returned his attention to his brother. "Faith here offered us her help."

Though Dean didn't like ending up at the mercy of a stranger, he had to admit, given their location there was little else that Sam could have done. The fog that was threatening to drag him under again, relented just for a moment, as Sam's words came back to him. "The car..."

Sam must have heard the panic in his voice because he smiled for the first time. "Is fine. It's in the driveway."

"Good," Dean mumbled as he allowed the darkness to take him at last. Stranger's house or not, Sam and the car were safe for the moment, leaving Dean free to surrender for a bit.

888

Sam heard Faith behind him ask, "How can I help?"

"I'm gonna need to get him cleaned up." Sam winced as he stripped away the last of his brother's muddy clothing. As he worked, he catalogued Dean's numerous injuries. His brother's face had some minor bruising, but nothing that looked serious. His chest and right hand were another matter.

At least two of the furrows left by the werewolf's claws would need stitches the others would need cleaning and disinfection.

His right hand looked as though it might be sprained. Not broken, at least Sam hoped. He shook off the thought. At this point, even if it was broken there was nothing to be done about it. Sam would simply bind it and hope it was enough for now.

"I need to get some stuff from the car," Sam said reluctant to leave his brother's side. "If he wakes up he'll be upset if I'm not here. Can you sit with him; let him know I'll be right back?"

"Of course," Faith replied as she glided closer to the bed.

Sam stood and reached out to speak softly in Dean's ear. "Just hold on I'll be right back." With a last squeeze of his brother's arm Sam gained his feet.

He was at the door when Faith spoke. "If you want, pull the car into one of the garage bays. We're well above the flood plain but there's no reason to leave it outside in this weather."

Sam nodded and asked, "What about power, will we loose the electricity?"

The young hunter watched as Faith took his seat and gently laid her hand over Dean's. "We already have. We'll be fine, though, the generator is in good shape and I'm well stocked."

Satisfied that for the moment, there was nothing more important than settling Dean, Sam stepped from the room and moved down the short hallway.

He passed two doors as he went, one he assumed was Faith's bedroom and the other was most likely the bathroom. As he stepped into the main room, he paid more attention than he had earlier.

The inside of the logs that formed the cabin had been sheered off to form a smooth interior wall. In this light, the walls were a warm buttery color. At one end of the vaulted room sat a huge fireplace. The hearth was constructed out of large river jacks and reached wall-to-wall, ceiling to floor. A fire, just dying down to embers lent the room a welcome warmth.

At the other end of the room was a large modern kitchen. The counter tops were granite and the appliances stainless steel. There was a large island in the middle of the kitchen and a table and chairs, made also from wood, sat halfway between the living and kitchen area. The large overstuffed couches in deep green and the overstuffed chair that Frisky currently occupied rounded out the room's rustic appeal.

Sam felt his spirits lifting, as he walked toward the front door. As he moved to leave the house, Frisky hopped down from the chair and moved to his side. He was halfway through the door when he felt a familiar tug on the back of his jacket. A glance over his shoulder had him rolling his eyes. "I'm only going out for minute," he griped as he knelt down and stroked her thick black and silver fur.

"You're worse than, Dean. I don't think even he bosses me around this much," Sam joked as he gazed into the dog's steady gaze.

It was then he noticed that the dog's eyes were mismatched. One was a true blue and the other looked more grey-green. With one final pat on her head, Sam stood and moved to leave once more.

This time instead of trying to stop him, the dog slipped out the front door first. He paused for a moment on the top step as if waiting on Sam. When the hunter reached her side, Frisky gave a low growl and hurried down and into the rain. Sam in a hurry to return to his brother's side, followed.

The rain had yet to slow and Sam was quickly soaked again. As he opened the driver's side door, Frisky flew by him, and quickly settled herself on the bench seat. Sick of being wet, Sam followed the dog into the car, and vowed never to tell Dean that a wet dog had spent time on the Impala's leather seat.

It took only a minute to park the big car in the first bay of the detached garage. He then began to pull what he needed from the car and set it neatly on the garage floor. After a moment's deliberation, he included the weapon's bag. No matter how thick the cabin's walls seemed, he had no interest in getting cause unaware by the werewolf again.

Content that he'd gotten everything necessary, he slammed the trunk and turned ready to start making trips to the house only to find one of the bags was missing.

He peered out of the garage and saw Frisky making her way up the stairs of the cabin, one of the duffels hanging out of her mouth. Sam watched dumbfounded as the dog entered the front door, and came out a moment later without the bag. He then watched as she returned to the garage and picked up another bag. With a final glance that seemed to ask, 'What's the hold up?' she darted into the rain.

At a loss for words, Sam picked up the last three bags, and moved out into the dark night grinning to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean laid in the darkness content to drift for once. He still wasn't sure where he and Sam had ended up, but for once he found he didn't care. For the first time in a while, he felt as if everything was fine for the moment.

He'd heard Sam's murmur and knew that the shaggy-haired hunter was outside gathering up their gear. The warmth of the room was finally beginning to penetrate his numb body and to top it off a beautiful red headed stranger sat next to his bed.

As she used a warm rag to wipe the grime from his skin, he couldn't help but admit that her sweet smell and delicate hands definitely won out over Sam's piney after-shave and freakish giant hands. Dean gasped slightly as she moved the cloth over his left temple.

"I'm sorry," Faith said with a grimace. "I'll be more careful."

Dean reluctantly opened his eyes and reassured her, "Its fine, really. My brother's not exactly Florence Nightingale."

Now that he'd forced his eyes open, he couldn't help but study the woman that hovered above him. Her hair was a rich auburn color. It hung straight, past her shoulders, emphasizing her pale, clear skin. She would have looked like a doll, except for the smattering of freckles that ran across her cheekbones. There was something ethereal about her. Small in stature, her perfect green eyes only served to emphasize her pixy-like appearance.

As he watched her, something landed on his legs. The weight was warm and heavy. He tried to see what it was but the girl's body blocked his view. He began to worry when sharp claws began digging thru the blanket and into his bare legs. "Ow, what the hell was that?" he asked actually jumping slightly.

The woman quickly reached out and grabbed the purring mass that was even now settling onto Dean's legs. Catching up a fat grey and brown cat, she deposited him on her lap.

"This is Church. He usually sleeps with me, but I guess he figured you'd do for now."

Dean looked aghast at the creature that sat on the redhead's lap. To say that the cat was huge was an understatement. It looked as if she held a bobcat rather than a housecat, as Dean's gaze traveled from cat to owner he noted the name. "Church?" he asked, questioning the girl's taste in animal names. Maybe she was religious he thought mentally rolling his eyes.

Faith laughed, and dropped the big cat off her lap with a resounding thud. "Church, as in Winston Churchill."

Dean thought for a moment, trying to rack his brain as to why a cat named Churchill should sound familiar. The Winchester men had never been 'cat people' in point of fact they had gone out of their way to avoid anyone that was a cat person. The Winchester liked dogs. Dogs were useful, cats, on the other hand, simply took up air.

The young woman sat staring at him, and amused smile tugging at her full lips. She opened her mouth, most likely to explain, when Dean finally found the memory he'd been searching for.

"Got it. Winston Churchill was the cat from Stephen King's Pet Cemetery, the one that came back."

Another smile broke across Faith's face as she nodded. "You got it."

He grinned, proud of himself for remembering a story read so long ago. He'd been maybe fourteen and Sammy ten when he'd read it the first time. For a week, Sam had refused to sleep alone. When John had finally realized what he was reading to Sam before bedtime he'd nearly beaten Dean. With a smile, Dean recalled how his brother, despite being scared to death, had refused to allow him to stop.

Suddenly, Dean thought of the significance of the name and asked warily, "Why'd you name it that?" He couldn't help but peer suspiciously at the cat that had once more settled on his legs. "It's not the walking dead is it?" Dean asked in an attempt to settle his sudden unease.

Faith grinned, clearly understanding Dean's question and replied, "About two years ago he started coming around. Kept begging and was living in the garage, he got along well enough with the dog, so, I figured he was here to stay. I took his picture into town to make sure no one was missing him. That's when I ran into Ray Sanders the town sheriff. He was a bit put off when he saw the picture."

Knowing the punch line was coming, Dean asked warily, "Why?"

With a laugh, Faith continued her story. "He explained that a cat fitting Church's description was hit by a car up on the north side of town. The owner of the car felt so bad she'd paid for a burial for the poor animal in our local pet cemetery."

Sure where this was going, Dean couldn't help but wriggle his legs a bit trying to unseat the cat that was now staring steadily at him.

"Ray himself buried the cat. He swore then and he still contends it was Church he buried. When he stops, he refuses to go anywhere near him. I keep telling him to dig up the grave, but he refuses. Says he wouldn't know what to do if the grave was empty." Faith leaned back and ran a hand down the cat's lush body.

Dean grinned with glee at the story, "Of course after that what else could you name the cat. I saw the dog also, what's his name 'Cujo?'" Dean asked referring to another Stephen King story.

Faith met his grin with one of her own as she replied, "Nope, Cujo was a saint bernard. The dog's name is Frisky, she once saved me in a snow storm."

Dean could hear the challenge in her voice and began racking his mind. Finally, caught the elusive memory and blurted out, "Frisky, from Dragon's Eye. Nice."

Needing a distraction from his injuries, Dean allowed his gaze to wander over Faith's beautiful face once more. It was then he noticed her eyes. Although, he had noted the color before, what had slipped his attention was the fact that they moved slightly independent of each other. They also, didn't remain focused on any one object.

Dean felt as if someone had suddenly punched him. All the air seeped out of his lungs and he struggled to draw in more. Pity filled him until he wanted to lash out from the pain. Instead, he reached out and carefully captured the pretty girl's hand. "What's your name? Or should I be afraid to ask?" Dean questioned, his heart breaking at her sweet smile.

"Nope, nothing supernatural about me, my name's Faith," She responded easily.

"Faith, that's pretty," Dean replied as he continued to stroke her hand. "How long have you been blind, Faith?"

888

The question came out of the blue, slamming into Faith with a blow that actually hurt. For one single moment, for one beat of her heart, she had allowed herself to pretend she was normal. She knew how stupid it was. How dangerous it could be to her well-being, but she'd just forgotten.

She had forgotten that to the world she was handicapped. She had allowed herself to get caught up flirting with a stranger. Faith ignored the pain in her chest and pulled her hand out of his. Without a word, she stood and walked out of the room. Once in the hall she impatiently wiped away the lone tear on her cheek and walked into her own bedroom.

In three steps, she crossed the room and stopped in front of her bureau to pick up a pair of sunglasses. As she slipped on the dark rose tinted glasses, she couldn't help but curse at her stupidity. As she put them on, she cursed her forgetfulness. She rarely allowed anyone to see her without the gold-rimmed sunglasses.

Ten years ago, she'd been grocery shopping when Faith had overheard an old classmate tell someone that her wandering glance 'freaked her out'. That had been the last time Faith had allowed anyone to see her without them.

Her own stupidity made her want to pound her fists against the bureau. For the few moments she had sat next to the injured man, she'd allowed herself to forget. There had been no trace of pity in his tone, and his laughter had been honest, not a matter of simple kindness. God, how long had it been since she'd been just a pretty girl talking to a man, maybe even flirting a bit. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl, she berated herself.

Faith sighed deeply and squared her shoulders, oh well, she thought, no point in hiding.

888

Sam entered the cottage and moved toward Dean's room. As he entered, he was glad to see Dean was alert once more. Sam shut the door and quickly stripped off his own soaking shirt. As he began changing into dry clothes, he quizzed Dean on how he felt.

Dean seemed distracted as he answered Sam's questions. The younger Winchester couldn't help but worry that his brother's head wound seemed worse then he'd realized. "You okay, Dean?"

His brother waved away the question with a simple, 'I'm fine.' Sam though could see that something was bothering him.

"Where's Faith?" Sam questioned, wondering if perhaps the woman had something to do with Dean's odd behavior.

Dry at last, Sam began gathering supplies from the bag he'd brought in. As he waited for his brother's reply, he pulled out the saline and began cleansing the wounds on Dean's chest.

"I'm not sure," Dean answered with a gasp, "she left a moment ago."

Sam nodded trying to ignore the fact that he was causing his brother more pain. "What's up with that lump on your legs?"

Dean gave the creature a nudge and said, "That's Winston Churchill. Church for short and the dog's Frisky."

Sam nodded and began pulling out the suturing kit. "Girl's a bit of a Stephen King fan?"

Sam winced in sympathy as he began stitching the deepest wound on Dean's chest. It began just below his armpit and ran diagonally downward. The young hunter was relieved that the wound's edges weren't jagged. He stitched carefully hoping to avoid too much scarring, not that it seemed to matter to his brother.

Sam cared though, he noticed every mark, especially the ones taken in his defense. Hell, Sam thought with a grimace, some were even given by him.

Dean must have noticed Sam's grim expression. With a slight grin, he wrapped one work-roughened hand around Sam's left arm and murmured, "Sammy, I'm fine really. I was lucky."

"No, Dean, you weren't lucky. What you were was stupid. You shouldn't have thrown yourself at that thing. This," Sam said, gesturing at Dean's wounds, "this is not okay."

"Sam, come on man. It really is okay. I'm fine and we're going to go back out and get that sucker. It's what we do Sam, it's a tough job. Besides, there've been plenty of times I've had to sew you back together." Dean offered Sam a lopsided grin and said, "Besides, chicks dig scars."

"I don't know about that," Faith countered as she moved to stand near a window. "I've always been partial to how a guy smells and sounds."

Faith gave Dean a small smile, her face composed despite their earlier conversation. Dean gently squeezed Sam's arm and carefully shook his head at him. He didn't want his brother, questioning the rose colored glasses that now rested on Faith's slightly upturned nose.

Ignoring Sam's puzzled look, Dean replied, "Well, don't judge Sammy too hard. That pine tree smell he's got going costs a fortune, even if it does smell like Lysol."

Faith's smile widened slightly as she joked, "As opposed to the 'I'm a man so I should smell like leather' thing you've got going." The redhead seemed to enjoy Sam's loud guffaw.

Dean simply smirked and said, "Listen, I've been around enough to know that nothing goes better with leather than..." Here Dean sniffed theatrically. "Sunflowers?" Dean said, grinning at the surprised look on Faith's face.

Again, Faith's smile flashed as she laughed, "Hm...I don't know if I should be impressed or offended by the fact that you can name the perfume I'm wearing."

With a weary sigh, Faith gestured toward the window and asked, "Do you two need anything? Sun's about up and I was going to make some coffee. Anyone game?"

"Please," Dean and Sam answered in simulcast.

Without a shred of hesitation, Faith headed out the door stopping only as she reached threshold. Without turning to face the men, she said, "I'd appreciate it if you don't move anything. I mean anything. I stubbed the hell out of my toe on that bag in the living room."

Both Sam and Dean hastened to reassure the redhead, before she slipped out the door.

Dean shared a grim look with Sam before he released a tense breath.

Sam was the first one to speak. "I think the wolf's here, Dean. Or at least it's been here at some point. The dog seemed to sense something when we were unloading the gear."

Dean sighed and leaned back on his pillow. It was typical Winchester luck, here they sat in the middle of fricking nowhere, with a werewolf to kill and a blind girl to protect.

"Wait a minute," Dean said as Sam's words filtered through is mind once more, "who's we?"


	4. Chapter 4

Once Sam had finished Dean's cuts, he moved onto his hand. He carefully picked up the appendage in question and noted the swollen wrist and blue tinted fingers.

"There's really nothing I can do. I'll wrap it. Give it some support, but you're going to need to get it x-rayed. I'm thinking broken, I'm hoping sprained."

Dean snorted at his brother's words, "When do we ever get lucky?"

"Too true," Sam said with a grin.

Dean winced as Sam once again manipulated his right hand. His right hand for god's sake. How was he supposed to put a bullet in that bitch werewolf's furry little heart without the use of his right hand.

"What if we took off? Try to lead it away from here. I mean it's gotta be pissed at us right, we shot at it,"

Sam shook his head and began wrapping Dean's wrist. "Wont work, Dean. We're completely cut off. You were too out of it to notice, but we came this close," Sam said as he held up two fingers only inches apart, "to not making it."

Dean heaved a sigh of relief as Sam finally finished wrapping his hand. "Help me up, Sam. I wanna get dressed."

As Sam complied, helping him carefully to his feet, Dean came to a decision. "Alright, so we end it here. We'll just have to keep Faith safe. We know we have until tonight to prepare." With a tense grin he continued, "I mean she's blind right? We ought to be able to keep her in the dark."

888

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's choice of words and set about cleaning up. As Dean sat on the edge of the bed, preparing to slip on a button down shirt, Sam once again noticed the bruising and scarring that covered the older hunter's torso.

Sam felt sickened at the sight. He drew in a deep breath, tempted to try and get Dean to talk about the future. Sam needed to know that if anything were to happen to him, his brother would keep on fighting. He stopped himself before the words could form, knowing it would do no good.

Dean would do what Dean always did. He would protect Sam until the very end and beyond. What made it harder to accept was that his brother refused to talk about it, if Sam acknowledged Dean's commitment in any way, his brother shut down on him. Dean liked nothing better than to simply pass it off as the job that caused the wounds not any heroics on his part.

Ever since Oregon, he had found himself worrying. Sam, convinced that he was infected with a demon virus, had begged Dean to leave him, to save himself.

Dean had confessed that he had no interest in going on without his brother. He'd admitted to being tired of the life they led. Sam still felt a shiver of fear slip up his spine at the resigned tone his brother's voice had held.

Later, Dean had played it off but Sam hadn't been able to push away the memory. He worried constantly that in the coming war, Dean would be incapable of living if something were to happen to Sam.

The younger Winchester had nightmares of Dean going down in a blaze of glory upon Sam's death. Or worse, continuing with the hunt, pushing himself until there was nothing left. Nothing of Dean's humanity and nothing left of the brother Sam loved.

Sam had wanted to talk to Dean, to draw a promise from his brother. A promise that he wouldn't follow Sam. Problem was his brother refused to discuss it. His brother, so determined to keep Sam safe, wouldn't acknowledge the fact that he might outlive the youngest Winchester.

Hell, to be honest, Sam wasn't sure that he could move on without Dean. He'd already come too close too many times.

"You could take a picture if you'd like. It would last longer and it sure as hell wouldn't freak me out as much as your staring is." Dean snapped at Sam one brow lifted in question. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing," Sam muttered. Eager to put off his brother, he turned away and eyed the room. Other than the two twin beds, a bureau and a lone wooden shelf, there wasn't much to see.

A series of figures resting on the shelf, caught Sam's attention. Made from wood, there were animals, a few fish and one perfect miniature of Faith herself. The woman sat with her arms wrapped around herself, her legs drawn up to her chest and was resting against Frisky.

The figure was made from a light colored wood; it had varying streaks of an almost strawberry color to it. Sam lifted it carefully and examined it closer. The girl and dog sat side by side, Sam could see how the dog's thick coat faded at times into the girl's long hair. Sam had never seen something so perfect. Every aspect of the girl and dog were detailed, except for the girl's face. Though it was unmistakably Faith, the face was simply done. Sam set it carefully on the shelf next to the others and wondered at the talent it had taken to create the figurines.

Once his brother was dressed, Sam talked him into returning to bed. Weak from injuries and lack of sleep, Dean gave in without much complaint. He'd just gotten settled when Faith reappeared carrying a tray.

"Floor clear?" she asked as she entered the room. At Sam's reassurance, Faith moved toward the dresser. Setting the tray on top, she turned and said, "Here's the coffee, I'll be back in a minute."

Sam watched as she turned and left. There was no hesitation in her steps, nothing that indicated a lack of sight. He couldn't help but be impressed by her independence.

Once she'd disappeared, he picked up a cup and handed it to his brother. Dean accepted the coffee with his left hand and moaned in happiness at his first sip. Sam sat on the edge of the second twin bed and sipped his coffee, content for the moment to enjoy the heat.

888

Faith eased her way down the hallway, careful to keep the tray in her hand level. She'd forgotten just how nice it was to cook for someone other than herself. Someone, who if she was any judge, probably hadn't had a hot meal in a while.

Though they'd revealed nothing personal about themselves, there was something about Sam and Dean that put her in mind of orphans. Maybe it was just a matter of their sudden appearance in her house, or it could be the careful way they spoke. Despite their politeness, both seemed to measure their every word. There was nothing easy in either their tone, or the way they moved.

Determined to get some answers at last, Faith edged into the bedroom and set the heavy tray on the bureau. Despite her care, she felt a bit of the juice she'd poured slop over her hand. With a low curse for her clumsiness, she turned toward the men and worked to calm herself. She could feel the heat of her blush, and that only added to her embarrassment.

There were more times than she cared to remember that she wished she didn't blush so easily. Determined to ignore it, she carefully picked up one plate and moved toward the first bed. Normally, she would have used sound to find her way toward the man that lay on the bed. However, Dean seemed to be unusually still. That left her listening for her pitiful excuse for a cat, Church's purring was like a beacon.

"How about a little breakfast?" Faith said as she held out the plate with a desperate hope she wasn't too far off the mark.

"Sounds like heaven," Dean replied. Faith waited as she listened to a faint rustle of the sheets, a slight scuffling sound, and an indignant huff from Church.

"You didn't just kick my cat did you?" Faith questioned careful to keep the humor out of her voice. She had little doubt that her garbage can kitty had been doing its best to get the first nibble of Dean's breakfast.

A hint of embarrassment tinged Dean's words as he grumbled, "Just a love tap. Damn thing was trying to steal my sausage."

Sam's rich laugh rang out as he explained to Faith, "Dean's not one to share food."

"I got it," Dean said, purposely ignoring his brother's words, as he lifted the plate from Faith's hands.

The gasp that followed made it clear he'd hurt himself in doing so. "What's wrong?" she questioned as she stepped closer to the bed.

"It's nothing," Dean replied, "I'm fine."

Faith could hear the lingering pain in his voice. Determined to have the truth she took a seat on the edge of his bed and waited with one hand out. She was content to spend all day here if necessary, she really had been teasing earlier about his smell. The warm scent of his skin, a combination of leather and soap, was tempting enough to make the wait a pleasure.

At last, he placed his long fingered hand gently in hers. "I did something to my wrist. Sammy bound it, but..."

Faith didn't need him to finish his sentence to understand that it was hurting him more than he let on. As carefully as she could, she began to unwrap his wrist. Once it was exposed, she noted the obvious swelling. "Is it broke do you think?" Faith asked Sam.

"It's probably just a bad sprain," Dean replied in place of Sam.

"What if we splint it?" Faith asked, again directing her question toward where Sam hovered, only a foot or so from Dean.

"It would probably help with the swelling," Sam conceded. "Plus it'll keep him from using it by accident.

"I don't need a splint," Dean growled as he tried to take back his hand.

Faith ignored the man's tantrum and stood. "I think I have something that'll work."

It took only a few minutes for Faith to gather the supplies she needed. As she headed back toward the bedroom, she couldn't help but wonder about the silence. Her experience had taught her that most people needed to fill a silence. These men seemed the exception.

She entered the room expecting to find a wave of tension. Instead, both men were waiting patiently. In fact, Church had returned to his place on the bed and was purring contentedly. "He's gonna drool all over you," She warned Dean as she took her spot on the bed once more.

"Well, I suggested he leave a couple times, but he seems pretty determined," Dean replied wryly.

Faith couldn't help but chuckle as she reached for Dean's injured hand once more. "A friend of mine used to say he was more stubborn than I am, and that's saying something."

Carefully, Faith picked up the wooden serving spoon she'd grabbed from the kitchen and placed it on the underside of Dean's hand. The utensil was too long as expected so she chose a length for the handle. Releasing Dean's arm, she pulled out a pocketknife and used it to knick the handle. "I'll be right back"

Faith left the room, the silence seeming louder to her than ever and darted down the hallway to the small workshop she had in the laundry room. There she quickly hacked off the excess length of the handle smoothed the truncated handle a bit.

Confident that her makeshift splint would do the trick, Faith headed back to her guests. She was just nearing the door when she heard Sam speak.

"She's pretty handy with that knife. You think she's the one that carved those figures?"

Dean's more gruff answer was too low for Faith to hear. Despite knowing the possible consequences, she strained to hear the rest of the exchange.

"I wonder if was before or after she lost her sight," Sam stated, his voice full of pity.

Unable to stand having anyone feel sorry for her, Faith entered the room with a false smile stuck to her face. "Okay, this should work."

If either of the men noticed anything off, neither one commented on it. Instead, she heard the scrape of one of her ceramic plates, coupled with Sam's low groan.

"This is really good," he said around a mouthful.

Faith's smile became a bit more genuine as she heard him wolf down another bite. "Good. There's plenty more."

As she re-wrapped Dean's arm, using the spoon as a splint, the silence in the room became overwhelming. "So, are you guys like signing to each other or do you normally sit around in silence?"

This time, Dean teased, "Well, most of the time Samantha here can't shut up. I guess the food must be pretty good if he's not yapping."

Faith laughed as she carefully lifted Dean's plate from the nightstand and handed it to him.

"I know," she said, "let's talk about how the hell you two ended up on my doorstep."

For a minute, her only response was the chocking sound Dean was making as he struggled to breathe around a mouthful of food. Faith, obligingly patted him on the back, as she waited for a response.

She truly felt no threat from the two men, but she wasn't so naive that she believed they were on the up and up. After all, Dean was obviously injured and Sam had seemed much too adept at treating him.

At last, Dean spoke, "We're with the county Sherrif's Department. We're on a manhunt."

Faith had to admit, the man was an accomplished liar. Anyone that depended on their sight to help decipher the truth would most likely have been fooled. For Faith, however, the slightly stilted pattern of his words, coupled with Sam's sudden spate of fidgeting made it clear that he was lying.

"Okay," She drawled careful to keep her expression neutral.

Sam picked up where Dean had left off. "The prisoner escaped a couple months ago. We got a tip yesterday that he was near."

"Sam and I tracked him down, but I was hurt trying to apprehend him," Dean smoothly interjected.

"By the time I got Dean stable, the rain had prevented us getting out of the area. I stumbled across Frisky and your driveway."

"Really," Faith murmured this time not bothering to hide her doubt.

At her obvious disbelief, both brothers began to eat with more gusto. Faith almost laughed, she guessed they figured a full mouth would stop her questions.

In no hurry, Faith waited until the clatter of their forks became more pronounced indicating that they were down to bare china. At last, she asked, "Why didn't you announce yourself as police?"

Sam fielded this question. "I had my badge out; I just assumed you saw it. Why else would you have let two strangers in?"

"You really shouldn't open the door to just anyone," Dean chided, trying to turn the fault back on Faith.

Willing to let the truth go for now, Faith smiled slightly and shrugged. "Too true. You guys get some rest, the storm's supposed to continue all day. Long as this rain keeps up you won't be tracking anyone." With that, Faith left the room, her thoughts already focused on finding out the truth.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam watched his brother for one more moment, before quietly slipping from the bedroom. As he started carefully down the hallway he began to turn over the Winchester's options.

Although, his brother denied it, Sam knew he was in real pain. No matter what Dean insisted, the wound on his chest, coupled with his wrist put him on the DL list. That left Sam to deal with Faith, the werewolf and his brother's bruised ego.

The easiest way to deal with all three would be for Sam to take care of the creature himself. It wouldn't be hard, the monster was roaming the surrounding area looking for food. If Sam could escape his brother's sharp gaze for even a couple hours, it would take little effort to set up a trap and shoot the beast.

That would mean Faith was safe once more, Dean wouldn't have to risk injuring himself further and the Winchesters could be on their way before their hostess decided to push her curiosity. All in all, a win-win situation.

Sam eased down the hallway as he went over the hardest part of his plan, escaping his big brother's notice. Nothing short of unconsciousness could make Dean relax his vigil.

At the entrance to the living room, he couldn't help but notice Faith was absent. He knew she had to be exhausted given their late night arrival. Her dog lay snoring contentedly on the chair by the fireplace, so Sam was confident the young woman hadn't left the house.

It was nearly ten o'clock in the morning and his brother had been asleep for about an hour. Sam had stayed in the room, and kept watch until he was certain Dean was sleeping soundly. He knew if his brother realized he was still awake, he would be shadowing Sam's every movement rather than getting some much needed sleep.

The heat of the fireplace drew Sam. In minutes, he'd added wood to the embers and had gotten a blaze going. He found himself wondering how Faith managed out here, when she was obviously on her own. Just then, as if she'd heard his ponderings she entered the living room.

"Hey Sam, is he sleeping?" Faith questioned as she sank into one end of the large couch. She held a slim piece of wood, and was turning it in her hands.

"Yeah, he fell asleep about an hour ago."

At Sam's confirmation, she leaned toward the coffee table, pulling a large flat wooden box toward her. As he watched in silence she deftly flipped open the box, reached in, and selected one of the many knives that lay inside. The knife gleamed in the morning light and appeared to be wicked sharp.

Her long, slender fingers worked the block as she began to knick the wood. Little by little, the block began to change shape. Fascinated by her sure touch, Sam asked, "How long have you been carving?"

"About nine years now. I used to draw," Faith offered easily. "I was pretty good, I was heading for art school, but losing my sight kinda put the kibosh on that idea."

Sam used to dealing with Dean's prickly pride kept all hints of pity from his voice. "You're really good."

"Yeah, well I like it. I sell the pieces I make on the web and to specialty stores. It helps pay the bills."

Sam continued to watch as Faith worked the wood. He had a million questions for the beautiful woman, but found himself unable to ask.

"Go ahead, Sam. Get it off your chest," Faith said with a small grin.

"I guess you get your share of questions," Sam offered with his own smile.

"I do, and it doesn't really bother me," Faith said as she turned toward him. Despite the glasses that prevented him from seeing her eyes, Sam could read the honesty in her reply.

"They're incredible. How do you do it, I mean without being able to see?"

Faith stopped cutting for a moment, and balanced the wood on the palm of her hand. "It's always about touch. I concentrate on the image I want, and just slowly work the piece. Small cuts are key. Little by little, the shape emerges."

Sam sat content for the moment just to watch. The heat of the fireplace was lulling him to sleep. Church had sauntered in moments ago and was in the process of snuggling up against Frisky. The dog didn't seem to mind the intrusion despite the cat's loud purring.

Given the little he'd observed, he found himself marveling at the life Faith had carved out for herself, despite her handicap.

"You can ask me, Sam," Faith said again seeming to read his mind.

Curious, Sam couldn't help but ask, "I was wondering how you managed all alone out here?"

"Nah," Faith replied, "that's not what you want to ask. What you really want to know is how I lost my sight." Faith kept her head down, her focus seeming to be her work, not her words.

"My mom died when I was seven, cancer. It was unexpected and harsh, Dad and I just kind of held onto each other you know." Her voice took on a dreamy quality as if despite the loss of her mother she was describing fond memories.

"It was just the two of us. God, he was the greatest, intelligent, down-to-earth, and funny as hell. He always treated me as if we were equals; I can count on one hand the number of times that we'd disagreed on something," Faith paused, pain seeping into her tone.

"I was eighteen. Had an art school all picked out. He was planning to move with me. Neither one of us was ready to be on our own. I know that sounds lame, to say that I wanted my Dad to come with me to college, but he was all I had. All I had ever had."

Sam, of all people, understood Faith's desire to keep her small broken family together. It was only after he'd left his brother that he realized just how much of himself he was leaving behind.

"Anyway," Faith continued, "we'd gone to dinner one night. He'd had a couple beers so I was driving home. The pickup came out of nowhere, slammed into my Jeep, and caused us to roll. I woke up two months after the accident. I was completely blind, and my father was dead." Faith's matter-of-fact tone made it clear she wasn't looking for pity.

"How'd you manage?" Sam asked even more impressed by the redhead.

"I just took things one by one, you know. Slow and easy wins the race," she said softly as she adjusted the glasses perched on the end of her nose.

"You know you don't have to wear them around us. You have beautiful eyes; it's a shame to cover them," Sam said earnestly.

Faith put a hand to the glasses and carefully removed them. "It bothers people."

Sam nudged her lightly and assured her, "It doesn't bother Dean or me. How did you end up here?"

Faith kept her face averted as she set the glasses aside and returned to her carving. "Um, I was in rehab for about three months, and then I was spent time in a group home. I hated it, being surrounded by people. I just wanted to live my own life. So, I enrolled at the Perkins School for the blind in Massachusetts, they taught me how to live on my own."

"That's about it; you know I just decided that I had to go on, that I would have faith in myself and my strength. I'm living the life that I want, and don't let anything stop me." Faith declared.

Sam turned away from the redhead and focused on the blaze in the hearth. "So that's it. You just decide to fight your fate? I don't know if I can do that," Sam said softly.

Compassion filled Faith's words as she answered, "I don't believe in fate, Sam, I believe that we are what we want to be. I believe that we shouldn't let anything shape our destinies but ourselves. If you want something, Sam, you get it, if you need to do something you do it."

Sam turned toward Faith with a snort. "You and Dean must have been separated at birth. That's his philosophy. Sometimes when I see what he's done, and I remember what he can do, I actually believe that he can change fate with nothing more than his will. A least I hope he can," Sam whispered to himself.

"Have faith in who you are and you'll never go wrong. Even if the worst happens, you'll know that you did the right thing. At least that's how I look at it," Faith said as she resumed carving.

Sam rested his head against the back of the couch and considered Faith's words. His last thought, before he drifted off to sleep, was that maybe Dean and Faith were right, maybe he could avoid his destiny by simple will.

888

Lost in her own thoughts, Faith was surprised to hear the clock chime one o'clock. She carefully set the small badger that was slowly emerging from the block of wood, on the table and rose. She stood and listened for a moment concentrating on Sam's deep breathing.

Satisfied that he was getting a much needed rest. She headed into the kitchen. As she washed her hands, she couldn't help but enjoy the moment. It was nice having someone in the house, someone to cook for, someone to fuss over. Loneliness was her only complaint about the life she'd made for herself.

Starving, she pulled out a container of homemade soup and tossed it into the microwave to defrost. As she set readying lunch, she couldn't help but consider the choices she'd made.

The last two men that she'd allowed to be a part of her life, had assured her that she was special and that they'd found her independence impressive. At least that was what they told her just before they tried to change her.

She knew that she was opinionated and sometimes difficult, but she was pretty sure the problem didn't lie with her. The fault seemed to lie in her taste in men.

Take Dean in there sleeping away the day. He was trouble with a capital T and she yet she found herself wondering, at the oddest moments, if he was as good looking as he sounded.

That just went to show how poor her judgment was. Because she had no doubt that if ever a man screamed 'one-night stand' it was Dean. The fact that he could name her perfume without hesitation only confirmed her suspicions.

"God, that's something every man wants to wake up to. A beautiful woman cooking him lunch."

Faith jumped a mile at the voice and cursed her reddening complexion. She had no doubt she was as bright as a tomato right now. With her fair skin, blushing was never pretty, but simply awkward.

Dean laughed a low, sexy, laugh that made her toes curl, and slipped past her to stand by the stove. Faith heard the rattle of the soup pot lid as Dean checked its contents.

"hm..." he drawled as he inhaled, "That is heaven."

The mute thump of a cupboard shutting alerted Faith to Dean's intentions. Using her hearing to pinpoint his location, she snapped the dish towel toward him.

"Ow," he whined.

Faith flashed a scowl in his direction and insisted, "It's not done, take yourself off until I call you."

At her words, the man suddenly went silent. Straining as hard as she could, she was unable to pinpoint just where he was. Panic began to build inside her as she suddenly realized Dean was a much bigger threat than she'd realized. No one was ever able to sneak up on her. Freaky dog hearing was one of the few perks she'd gotten in exchange for spending the rest of her life in the dark.

It was the faint sigh of his hot breath on her neck that finally gave him away. Suddenly, angry that he'd gotten the jump on her, she spun and shoved with all her might.

Caught off guard, he should have toppled backward. Instead, he caught his balance and in turn wrapped his good arm around Faith with a low laugh.

"I almost had you," he growled playfully.

Faith couldn't help but grin at his laugh. "You're pretty good, but I'm better," she said as she lightly pushed against him.

Her touch brought a slight intake of breath from her wannabe stalker. Guilt suddenly swamped her as she remembered his injuries. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

"Naw, I'm fine," he answered easily.

Doubting his honesty, Faith gestured toward the island and the plates that she'd set up. "Why don't you sit, I'm just finishing up and then we'll eat."

The scrape of a chair, made it clear that he'd taken her suggestion. Trying to gain back her composure, she set about pouring drinks.

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Dean settled back in his seat secretly grateful for the rest. To say he was still sore was an understatement. He actually felt as if a wrecking ball had hit him square in the chest. Then again, as he considered what had happened, he guessed the comparison was pretty accurate.

"I have to say I'm impressed, that was some of my best sneaking. Pretty and talented you're the full package, huh?" he joked, trying to earn another smile.

Dean watched as a vivid blush crept up Faith's neck and filled her face. He idly wondered if that blush reached everywhere, he had to admit it was an intriguing thought.

Instead of acting on his instincts, he sighed and glanced about the room, studying the cabin for the first time. He liked the feel of it, there was nothing delicate in the rustic setting. The furniture was large and comfortable. It was a house meant to be lived in and loved not just a display of wealth. Dean wondered about the girl that lived in it all alone.

"Have you always lived here?" Dean asked. He enjoyed watching her move around the large kitchen; she had a natural grace that wasn't impaired by her blindness.

Faith stopped for a moment and gazed at a distant point that only she could see. "No, I had it built about five years ago. I used the money from the sale of my parent's house. At the time, I was dating a guy. I thought there was a chance that someday we would live in it together maybe raise a family here. He seemed supportive said all the right things, but when it came down to it, it just didn't work out. I think he wanted to save me, and when I proved to him that I didn't need saving, he walked away." Faith shrugged in resignation and moved to carry a plate of sandwiches to the island.

Dean couldn't help but wonder what kind of an idiot would have given this woman up. "He sounds like an ass," Dean stated baldly.

Faith snorted a laugh and said, "Definitely. Now go wake your brother and we'll eat."

Dean glanced toward the couch where his brother was snoring softly. Like always, he marveled at just how young Sam appeared when sleeping. With a sigh, Dean arranged his features into a grin and moved toward his brother. "Up and at 'em, Sam. Daylight's wasting."

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Sometime later Faith was outside on the porch waiting for Frisky to return from her romp. She leaned against the thick column supporting the porch roof and considered just how much she had enjoyed lunch.

Her houseguests had proven themselves quick witted and unafraid to poke fun at each other. They had consumed everything in sight with a pleasure that bordered on ecstasy and had left her wondering just when they'd last eaten.

In fact, given the fact that she'd served them soup and sandwiches, a meal that hardly qualified as haut cuisine, she couldn't help but pity them somewhat.

As she stood waiting, her rambling thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a howl. Faith recognized the mournful sound as Frisky's. Without thinking, she moved down the steps and into the rain calling for the big dog.

Faith came to a halt on the drive and waited, listening for some clue as to what had upset her dog. Confident of her surroundings, she moved to the edge of the drive and into the wet grass that surrounded the cabin.

"Frisky!" she shouted now desperate with worry.

With a grimace of distaste, she slogged through the yard, heading toward the edge of the wood where she had last heard her dog. She was about to lunge headlong into the woods when she heard something crash through the underbrush.

Frisky suddenly rammed into her with an uneasy growl. The dog was a mass of quivering, wet, fur and kept pushing herself against Faith. Finally, at a loss as to what the dog was trying to convey, Faith finally knelt down and placed her face close to the wet dog's nose.

"It's okay sweetheart, its okay," she murmured as she stroked a hand across the dog's wet head. "Show me, Frisky, show me what's wrong."

Faith stood once and placed a hand on Frisky's back, burrowing her fingers into the thick black fur. Above all her other wonderful tricks, Frisky had been trained to be a guide dog. Though Faith rarely used her as such, she did practice with her enough to keep the dog on top of her game.

Their favorite way to practice was to hike through the surrounding forests. Paths led all through the dense growth, making it easier for both woman and dog to maneuver.

Today, though, the forest held a different sort of vibe. The only noise to be heard was the incessant rain that dripped down upon them. Even Faith's uncanny hearing could pick up no trace of any living thing. A shiver ran up her spine as Frisky let out another pitiful whine.

They had been walking through the woods for a while when the dog suddenly halted. Faith hadn't been prepared for it and she stumbled slightly forward. Before she could catch herself she tripped and landed with a jolt on the muddy forest floor. Cursing her clumsiness, she moved to push herself to her feet.

That's when the smell caught her attention. She had been so focused on listening, she hadn't noticed the odor that now surrounded her.

In a slight panic, Faith tried to scramble to her feet. However, when she placed her hand on the ground, she didn't find dirt or even scrub as she expected. Instead, it landed on what felt like a piece of cloth.

Faith fondled the material between her fingers for a moment before she slowly moved her hand along its edge. That's when she realized the cloth encased a leg.

Close to panic now, Faith's only thought was that someone had been injured trying to escape the flood. Without thinking, she rapidly moved her hands upward following the line of the unmoving person's leg. As she leaned closer, she grimaced at the smell.

It was then her hand touched something cold and slimy. Mistaking it for mud, she shoved at the mass. The odor was now so strong she wanted to gag, instead, she pushed away her panic and shook the body she could feel under her hands.

It was while she was searching for a heartbeat that it occurred to her just what the smell was.


	6. Chapter 6

"Absolutely not, Sam, we can't wait another night to deal with this bastard," Dean practically shouted, at his brother. "We're going tonight, and we're going to kill this son of a bitch, before it manages to get to Faith."

Dean glared at his brother in disbelief. He didn't get Sam's hesitation, the creature needed to be killed, and Dean planned on killing it. Tonight. He saw no point in waiting. Their circumstances weren't going to all of the sudden improve. The worst part was all this arguing served no purpose except to drain the last of Dean's already waning energy.

As he stared daggers at his kid brother, he couldn't avoid the pity on Sam's face. Before the lanky youth had left for college he would never have questioned, Dean's ability to kill this werewolf. Hell, if Dean had suggested going after the creature with no more than a water gun, Sam would have followed along with a thermos in hand.

Now, however, all he did was question Dean's ability at every turn. Dean had always lived by their father's favorite phrase, 'you do what needs to be done, and you shut about it.' His strength had always been his over abundance of confidence in himself. Without it, he would have stumbled long ago.

For Dean it was simply a matter of deciding what needed to be done, and doing it. End of story, period. That had been easier to accomplish with Sam's unwavering faith. Now with his brother watching him, doubting his capabilities a worm of doubt had begun to creep into Dean's heart, and in his line of work that meant trouble.

He knew that in Sam's mind, the bruises and fractures that Dean sustained were injuries, something to be pitied. What Sam didn't get was to Dean they were badges of honor. Each scar represented someone he had saved, each bruise a meant a family would remain whole.

Hunting had never been just a job to Dean, never something he had been forced into. To Dean, it was something to be proud of, a chance to make a difference. Saving people was his gift, it was what he was meant for.

"We're going. End of discussion."

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Sam clenched his fists in frustration. He'd been trying for the last ten minutes to convince Dean to hold off, just one more day, before setting out to track down the werewolf. He focused once again on his brother. The simple act of arguing had caused Dean to become pale, his eyes were tight with pain, and despite the sleep he'd gotten today, he sported dark shadows under his eyes. Sam suddenly made a decision, he hadn't wanted it to come to this, but really Dean had left him no choice.

If Dean refused to save himself, then Sam would do it for him. No way big brother was gonna get himself killed, not on his watch.

Sam nodded shortly and said, "You're right, we'll set out tonight, and get the bastard. Let's just wait until Faith goes to bed. I expect it'll be early, she's got to be tired after staying up with us all night." Sam turned from his brother, hating himself for the lie.

His brother dropped onto the couch with a small sigh, and then pressed a hand against his chest and winced. As much as Sam wanted to fuss over the hunter, he knew Dean wouldn't appreciate it. No the best way to help Dean, would be for Sam to end this werewolf. Decision made, Sam turned his thoughts to the details.

It was then he heard the unmistakable sound of Faith screaming. Sam lunged toward the heavy log door, Dean only a step behind. Unable to find Faith in the clearing that surrounded the house, he paused for a moment unsure of where to go.

He couldn't seem wrap his head around what was happening. It was still hours until sunset, Faith shouldn't have been in any danger. "What the hell, Dean?" Sam snapped in frustration.

"Sh..." his older brother replied.

Sam bit off a retort and schooled himself to patience. Eyes closed, he stood still as a statue waiting for some sign from Faith.

Her bloodcurdling scream acted like a starter's pistol for Sam. Off in a flash he threw himself through the thick wood, eyes pinned to the ground searching for any sign that the blind girl had come this way.

His brother was hot on his tail when Sam stumbled through the last of the underbrush and onto a well-maintained path. With a swipe of his hand to remove the rain that ran down his face, Sam darted up the path, following the muddy prints that Faith and Frisky had made.

Frisky's gut-wrenching howls increased in volume as Sam delved deeper into the forest. He found it scary just how far the duo had managed to get from the house, while he and Dean had sat unaware.

At last, Sam could make out Frisky's large frame, the dog was standing, four legs locked, his head lifted toward the cloud-darkened sky as he let loose another yowl. The waking nightmare before him, caused him a halt in horror.

The storm clouds, now a mottled grey, blocked out nearly all the daylight, making it appear closer to sunset than noon. Rain, rain poured down from the heavens as the dog continued to cry.

Faith sat on her knees in the mud, blood and visceral dripping from her hands as silent sobs shook her frail frame. Lying prone on the ground in front of her was an elderly man, his sightless eyes staring up at the cloudy sky.

Much to Sam's horror, he could see that the man had been nearly split in half. His insides lay draped across his lap and trailed into the grass that surrounded him. Sam swallowed hard at the knee prints, Faith had left in the mud next to the body. It looked as if she had tried to come to the man's aid. There were bloody fingerprints under his jaw, marks no doubt left by Faith in an attempt to feel for a pulse.

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Dean came to a halt at Faith's side. The young woman was shaking so hard, her teeth were chattering. "Faith," Dean called softly as he reached out and placed on hand on her shoulder. At his touch, the young woman screamed in terror and scrambled backwards from the contact. She came to rest a foot from Dean, her eyes darting blindly as she gasped and sobbed.

Faith's reaction worked like a slap to Frisky, one moment he was standing on the edge of the clearing howling mournfully and the next he was standing next to the redhead growling toward Dean.

Careful to keep his distance from the malamute's sharp teeth, Dean edged forward and called sharply, "Faith!"

This time his voice seemed to register with Faith. "Dean?" she called out hoarsely.

Dean eased closer and confirmed, "It's me, honey."

"He's dead," Faith cried, tears making tracks through the mud on her face.

With a grimace, Dean looked toward the body, and his brother who now hovered over the man. "I know, honey. We need to get to the house, Faith."

Instead of answering him, Faith drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped on hand around them. The other reached out to grasp Frisky's thick neck. The way they sat put Dean in mind of the figure Faith had carved. Only this time the scene inspired images of tragedy rather than love.

"Dean, we need to go," Sam said as he stepped beside his brother.

Dean glanced at his brother, reading the sympathy and horror in gaze. "Yeah," he replied to both the look and Sam's words.

Without bothering to consider what would happen if the animal wouldn't listen, Dean approached the dog and the girl and said firmly, "Home, Frisky."

The dog stared up at the hunter with her mismatched eyes for a moment as if judging Dean's worth. At last, she nudged Faith with a low whine, and then moved away from the woman.

Without Frisky's support, Faith seemed to sag toward the ground. Dean stepped into the dog's place and wrapped the woman's arm over his shoulder. Biting back a moan of pain, from the stitches in his chest, Dean lifted Faith and straightened up.

"Give her to me, Dean," Sam said as he stepped forward to accept woman.

Dean shook his head and readjusted his hold. "I got her, just lead the way."

Sam opened his mouth to object and then snapped it closed again. Dean figured his brother knew arguing would do him no good. Instead, Sam turned and started back for the house, following Frisky's lead.

In all honesty, despite his bum arm and his injuries, carrying Faith really wasn't all that taxing. What bothered him was how cold she was. Her skin, where it touched his chest, felt like ice and he had no doubt that the tremors that continued to run through her body weren't only due to stress.

Once at the house, Sam swung open the front door and stepped back to let Dean pass. The heat from the house only served to make him more aware of just how cold the redhead was. With a calming murmur, he carried her straight through the living room and into the bathroom.

Sam hovered anxiously behind him as Dean stepped up to the bathtub and gently lowered the girl inside. "Sam, find her something dry to wear," Dean ordered as he reached up and unhooked the showerhead. Sam nodded and left, thankfully before he could register Dean's grimace.

Reaching for the showerhead had done what the earlier run and carrying Faith had not. He'd torn a stitch, well given the blood that was now seeping down his chest, he'd torn more than one. Cursing inwardly, he ignored the pain for now certain that with all the gore on his shirt his eagle-eyed brother wouldn't notice the newer stain.

He carefully adjusted the spray, making the water as hot as possible without being uncomfortable. He then began to move the spray over Faith's quaking body. As her skin began to warm, Dean worked on rinsing out her long thick hair.

"Here's a change of clothes," Sam said from the doorway.

Dean just nodded and continued to warm the poor girl.

"She gonna be okay?"

Sam's words, so closely echoing his own worries, had Dean studying Faith. Her skin had begun to pinken and she was no longer shuddering. Her eyes were now closed, instead of wide open with fear, and she was breathing more slowly. "I think so. How about finding us a bottle of something? I know I could use a belt and I'm thinking she'd be grateful for one as well."

"Sure, no problem."

Once his brother had left the room, Dean began talking. He didn't bother with anything profound or important, instead he kept it to light banter. He hoped the sound of his voice, would remind Faith that she was safe. It was a trick he'd learned long ago with a much younger Sam.

"You know, I'm going to have to strip you down to get you properly clean," Dean murmured as he stripped off her shoes and socks. "Yup, I'll have to get up close and person. Not that I'll enjoy it, I am after all a gentleman."

Dean slipped down the zipper of the lightweight jacket she wore and began maneuvering her lax arms out of it. "Its just one of the perks, I mean, duties of being your rescuer."

If he hadn't been watching her so carefully for some sign of life, Dean probably would have missed the faint smile that tugged at one corner of Faith's mouth. Confident that he was getting through to her, Dean teased a bit more. "Yup, it's nothing more than a duty," he said as he used his good hand to pop the top button of her jeans. "I won't get a moments pleasure out of it."

"Or at least no more than one," Dean practically purred in her ear.

"You know," Faith said with a sigh as she opened her eyes. "I usually make a guy buy me dinner before I let him talk dirty to me in the shower."

"Hm..." Dean growled as he wrapped his good arm around her. "I'll have to keep that in mind."

Offering the only comfort he could, Dean hugged her tight against his chest and touched his forehead to hers. Although he knew it was a stupid question, he couldn't help but ask, "Are you alright."

Faith drew in a deep breath and made no move to wipe away the tears that streamed from her eyes. She drew in a deep ragged breath and said, "I thought he was hurt, you know. I put my hands on him and was feeling my way toward his head. When I felt..." At this, Faith swallowed audibly, and Dean prepared himself to get her to the toilet before she puked.

Instead, she took several deep breaths and shook her head. "Who could have done something like that; I mean how could anyone be that sick?" Faith asked.

Unable to offer her false comfort, Dean stuck to the truth. "I wish I had an answer to that, I really do,"

The redhead nodded and pulled back a bit putting some distance between herself and Dean. "I really am alright," she said with a grimace. "I just, the smell of the blood and the feel of his..." Faith's voice trailed off as she moved to stand up.

With a wince that he was thankful she couldn't see, Dean got to his feet and leaned over to help her to her feet. "You okay?"

Faith nodded and said, "I'm gonna get cleaned up, I'll be out in a minute."

Dean watched her for a moment to ensure she really was okay. At last, he stepped back. "Call me if you need help," he said as he left the bathroom.

Sam was in their bedroom changing into dry clothes, when Dean walked in. With a grim smile for his brother, he set about finding what appeared to be his last dry jeans and tee-shirt.

Truly exhausted and in serious pain, Dean moved about the room with little purpose as he waited for Sam to finish and leave.

His brother was heading toward the bedroom door when he asked the dreaded question. "Dude, you feeling okay?"

Dean didn't bother to lift his gaze from the duffle bag he was currently digging through. "I'm good. We need to do some serious laundry though, first chance we get."

The mention of laundry had the desired effect on his chore dodging brother. "Uh, yeah, we'll have to do that," Sam said as he ducked out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

If he didn't hurt so much, Dean would have laughed. The mere mention of doing laundry always worked to clear Sam out of a room. His baby brother had a profound hatred for washing clothes.

Now that he was alone, he needed to check on his chest. He quickly pulled off the wet tee-shirt he'd been wearing and carefully removed the bandage. Though there was blood smeared across his chest, it looked as if he'd only pulled a stitch or two on the deepest of the cuts. Satisfied that the wound would be fine, Dean quickly used his soaked tee to clean up his skin, and then he re-bandaged the wound.

His hand had actually fared better. The spoon had done the trick keeping it immobilized and the tips of his fingers were a healthy pink again. Quickly, he pulled on a set of dry clothes and left the room carrying a clean ace bandage. Though he was now dry, he was still far from warm. The thought of settling in front of Faith's roaring fireplace had him hurrying from the room.

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Faith moved toward the low sound of voices. She had been touched to find a pair of her flannel pajamas waiting on the edge of the sink when she'd finished her shower. As she entered the living room, she noticed that both Sam and Dean had suddenly gone quiet. "You still there boys?" Faith asked, as she moved toward the couch.

"Yes, ma'am," the boys replied in unison.

With a faint smile for their guilty replies, Faith headed toward them. Uncaring if she was disturbing them, she dropped down on the couch right between them both.

Or at least that was the plan. What more accurately happened is she ended up nearly on top of Sam. "Shove over, Sam," Faith ordered. She had questions that needed answers, answers that could only come from these two.

Sam mumbled something and shifted sideways, allowing Faith to wiggle deeper into the couch. With her head resting against the seat back, she closed her eyes and said, "So, you guys ready to tell me why I just found my neighbor ripped to shreds?"

The silence continued for a moment before Sam hesitatingly offered, "We can only assume it's the man we're tracking."

Faith just barely refrained from rolling her eyes at his half-answer. "Really," she answered dryly.

This time it was Dean that spoke, "How do you know who it was?"

The question sent a flare of pain through Faith's chest. Unable to answer she instead reached out for Dean's arm. With a careful touch, she ran her hand down his arm and carefully examined his bad hand. The bandage was gone, most likely off because it became wet. With a sigh, she held out her hand and waited patiently until a dry bandage and her makeshift split were handed to her.

Using her administrations as a means to gather her thoughts, Faith began carefully rewrapping Dean's wrist. From what she could tell his impromptu rescue hadn't done any additional damage. In fact, it felt as if the swelling had already somewhat subsided.

Once his hand was secure, she gently snapped her fingers together.

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Dean watched as Church immediately abandoned the fireplace hearth and leapt lightly onto Faith's lap.

As she buried her hands in the cat's thick fur she answered, "Mr. Simmons was my only neighbor. His place was on the far side of the mountain, closer on foot then by car. He and Frisky were pals, he would stop by a couple times a week for a cup of coffee."

Faith stopped speaking for a moment and drew in a ragged breath. "He was probably on his way here last night to check on me. With the electricity out he would have been worried." The redhead's voice dropped to a whisper as she said, "I told him I was okay, but he wouldn't listen."

"There were a handful of dog treats in his pocket," Faith said at last.

Dean shared a glance with his brother before answering. "We're sorry, Faith. I know its not much, but...we're gonna catch the guy who did this. When we do, he'll pay for what he's done."

"Sam and I are gonna head out in a minute and move Mr. Simmons. You can call the sheriffs department once the storm is over.

Faith suddenly threw out her arms, blocking both men from standing. "You can't go out there. It's got to be almost dark. It's too dangerous."

Dean didn't like the panicked sound of Faith's voice as she worried aloud.

Before he could reassure her, Sam piped up. "Alright, Faith, we'll stay. We can move on with our search in the morning."

Dean shot a vexed look at his brother's empty promise only to have Sam shrug.

Faith visibly relaxed at Sam's reassurance. She slipped deeper into the couch, propping herself against Dean's shoulder. As Church's purring reached an epic stage, Dean heard Faith's breathing even out as she drifted off to sleep.

The fire in the hearth, combined with Faith's body heat as she snuggled into his side, had Dean fighting his own heavy lids. Content that in a few hours he'd be tracking the nightmare that had touched Faith's life, he allowed himself to drift off.

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Sam sneaked a glance toward the living room once more, ensuring that Faith and Dean still slept. He'd begun making dinner a half-hour ago, and was waiting until the spaghetti was fully cooked to wake them. As he set the table, he went over his plans for tonight.

Despite the fact that Dean would kill him tomorrow, he felt comforted by the thought that at least the werewolf would be dead and unable to hurt either his brother or Faith.

Sam moved toward the fridge and pulled out the milk. Setting the jug by a trio of tumblers, he carefully dropped two pills into one of the cups. Careful to keep the cups straight, Sam stirred the one he'd dosed. Keeping his brother safe, made the crap he would catch from Dean well worth it.

Satisfied that by this time tomorrow the hunt would be over, Sam moved to wake his brother, and Faith.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam moved quietly about the cabin gathering the supplies he would need into one of the duffle bags. He glanced once more at the clock that was mounted above the fireplace, one o'clock. Right on schedule, thought Sam, as he shrugged on his coat. He set the bag by the front door and once again decided to check on his brother.

Earlier in the evening, the three of them had sat down to the dinner that Sam'd prepared. Though everyone praised his efforts, Sam had been unable to eat more than a few bits. His nerves had been stretched tight as he'd watched Dean down his drink. It was only once the last drops had been drained that Sam had allowed himself to believe that his plan just might work.

About a half-hour later his brother had been unable to stifle his yawns. Sam had offered to do the clean up and had shooed both Faith and Dean off to their respective rooms for a good nights sleep. Sam had rushed through the cleanup all the while listening for any sign that Faith was still awake.

Confident at last that she was asleep, Sam headed for their room only to find Dean nearly unconscious on top of one of the beds.

With a slap to his brother's foot he said, "At least get under the covers, Dean, I'll wake you around midnight and we'll take off."

With a hint of a grin, Sam watched as his brother struggled with the blankets for a moment. "Here, let me," Sam said reached out and helped Dean settle. His brother had mumbled something unintelligible, just before he'd fallen fast asleep.

Now, as Sam entered the room and stared down at his brother he felt even better about the decision he'd made to go it alone. Dean's face showed his bone deep exhaustion. His brother's eyes were rimmed with dark circles and his skin was unnaturally pale.

Sam grinned slightly, well, if nothing else went right tonight at least Dean would get one good night's sleep. Sam quietly closed the bedroom door and headed toward the front room.

More than ready to head out, Sam moved to grab the duffle from in front of the door. As he did, Frisky darted in front of him. Her low growl held none of her normal playfulness. This time she was not asking Sam to stay, she was telling him.

Sam hunkered down and ran his hands through the thick fur of the beautiful dog in front of him. He marveled once again at the dog's uncanny human-like responses, and said, "I know it's out there that's why I have to go."

Great, thought Sam with a smile, now he was talking to Frisky like Faith did. As if the dog understood. The dog stared for a moment more and then reluctantly moved aside.

Sam stood and patted the soft, black, head once more. Opening the door, he stepped out into the cold night air. Just before he could close the door, locking it behind him a flash of silver streaked out. Frisky stood at the top step looking back at Sam as if to say let's get this done.

Sam stared at the dog for a moment hesitant to risk the animal's life. He knew what the dog meant to Faith and he was reluctant to endanger her. He finally relented simply because time was of the essence and he'd have to pick the lock to open the door back up and put Frisky back inside.

With a soft, "Let's go, girl." Sam and Frisky moved from the porch out into the rainy night. As he entered the shadows of the surrounding forest, he noticed the full moon shone bright and true. The lingering rain clouds appeared to be clearing out.

Sam's whole plan, weak as it was, hinged on drawing the beast toward him, so he could place a well aimed bullet through its black heart.

Therefore, he made no effort to move quietly through the forest, but kept alert and ready for anything. Deeper and deeper into the trees he went. At times, the brush forced him to veer slightly east, but for the most part, he stayed true north. He was careful of his surroundings, Faith's property backed up to two hundred acres of state game lands, Sam had no interest in getting lost.

Frisky remained at his side never venturing farther than a foot ahead. Her ears twitched constantly and she moved quietly. He had been moving for about two hours when the dog began to growl. Sam glanced at his watch and noted that it was already close to three in the morning. He needed to engage the werewolf soon or he would be too late.

He began moving once more and noted that the hair on Frisky's back stood straight up. That's when Sam caught a whiff of the creature; the odor had a musky, animal scent. The smell also seemed to hint at a madness that wild creatures lacked.

Sam moved toward an outcropping of rocks and placed his back against the hard cold surface. Surveying the area in front of him, he waited, listening to Frisky's growls become more intense. He was sure that the creature was stalking him, and that was fine with him. The only way to kill the thing was a bullet through the heart, which meant that Sam was going to have to face it head on anyway.

Sam never heard the slight noise above him indicating that the creature was on top of the boulder behind him. He never smelled the fetid breath of the creature as it panted in excitement. He never saw the sharp claws that descended toward his head, the claws that would rip his head from his neck in a single wrench. He had no warning.

Luckily for him, Frisky's senses were better than his own.

The first warning he had that he might be in real trouble, was the moment ninety-five pounds of warm, wet dog hit him square in the chest. Sam hit the ground with a jarring thump and for a moment could do little more than gasp for air.

The werewolf's cry of rage had Sam focusing quick enough. As he worked to pinpoint the creature, Sam scanned the rocks above him. There, he thought, as he took aim and fired. The impact of the slug, knocked the creature off the boulder, but he was certain he hadn't killed it.

Frisky had gained her feet and was now intent on growling herself hoarse, as she tried to watch every direction at once. Sam rolled swiftly to his feet and took a moment to pat the dog's head. With whispered thanks, he was moving around the boulder hoping to catch the werewolf on the other side.

Instead, as he rounded the rock he was knocked to the ground from behind, and this time the sharp claws and overpowering smell, told him it wasn't Frisky. As he lay on his stomach with his gun pinned underneath him, he bucked wildly hoping to throw off the creature.

Sam heard a wicked growl come from the right and he felt the claws that were digging into his back falter. Suddenly, the werewolf let out a pained roar, as it released Sam completely. Sam scrambled to his feet and watched Frisky engage the enraged beast.

Sam wouldn't have recognized Faith's faithful dog, except it could be no other. The dog was a mass of snarling, snapping jaws. She was using her powerful shoulders and claws, trying to knock the werewolf off balance.

He drew a bead on the animals and aimed. He whistled sharply and Frisky immediately turned toward him. She was by his side in a flash. The werewolf, so disoriented by the dogs attack, immediately followed turning and allowing Sam a perfect shot. Sam blocked out everything except the pinpoint area that he was aiming for. He allowed the creature to rush forward and only pulled the trigger when he was sure of his aim.

The creature fell to the ground dead. With a deep breath, Sam leaned against the boulder that was behind him and slipped down until he was flat on the ground. With one weary arm, he reached out to Frisky and hugged the dog close telling her again and again how good she was.

He couldn't help but feel good as he quickly checked the dog over and ascertained that she was fine. The werewolf was dead, Faith was safe, and Dean hadn't had to risk injury once more.

Sam stood slowly and glanced toward the human that had taken the creature's place. The man was in his early thirties and with his neat haircut and clean-shaven face, he resembled little more than an accountant.

He couldn't help but feel for the guy. Despite what he'd become, he'd been given no chance in the matter. Sam could sympathize with that.

With a glance at the brightening sky in the east, Sam began to step away from the boulder. More than ready to return to the cabin, he set about gathering the items needed to burn the body.

As he turned toward the duffle he'd dropped earlier, something crashed into him, driving him into the rocks. His last thought, just before his head cracked against something hard, was to wonder when the werewolf had created a mate.

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Dean awoke slowly and without his usual clarity, he felt as if he'd done an all-nighter instead of enjoying some dinner and conversation. He turned toward Sam's bed and noticed that it hadn't been slept in. Dean pushed himself up and sat on the side of the bed, taking inventory of his bumps and bruises.

He actually felt pretty good, considering. His chest pulled slightly but no longer ached. His wrist still hurt but, from what he could tell, the swelling had gone down even more. Dean stretched and scratched at the bandages on his chest. He felt good and was ready to get the son of bitch terrorizing the area. Yup, that sucker was going down. He idly wondered what time it was and why Sammy had yet to wake him.

Within moments, he'd dressed and grabbed for his shoes. Down the hallway he went, careful to avoid the creaky floorboard just outside Faith's room. Though he figured she had to be exhausted, he didn't want to risk alerting the redhead to their departure.

He stepped out into the living area, expecting to find his brother snoring on the couch in front of the dying fireplace. Instead, what he got was a face-full of sunshine that was streaming into the room from the two windows flanking the hearth.

Dean instinctively dropped his shoes and put his hand up to shade his eyes. That's when it hit him, sunlight. With a curse, he dropped his hand and did a quick search of the room in front of him. His eyes widened in disbelief as he noted the clock read nine-thirty.

Reigning in his panic, he darted toward the kitchen counter and picked up his watch. He actually did a double take as he realized that the clock was right.

Desperate to find his brother, Dean moved toward the bathroom no longer trying to be quiet. The sight of the bathroom door hanging wide open, was like a blow to his chest. Out of ideas in the small house, Dean moved toward the front door, and went to pull it open when he noted the door was still locked.

That left only one place his brother could be holed up in. Dean turned heading for Faith's room as he struggled to deny what he knew he'd find. The chances that his brother had suddenly become Mr. Lothario over night and was snuggled up against the vibrant redhead, were slim to none. Even if Sam had decided to get some lovin' there was no way he'd forget the job.

Without bothering to knock, Dean slammed open the door, noted a startled but alone Ffaith, and cursed loud and long.

888

Faith sat up, startled by the slam of her bedroom door and Dean's crude curse. She heard him leave the room and begin moving frantically around the living room. Faith swung herself out of bed and moved toward the noise. "Dean, what's wrong?"

"That jackass brother of mine decided to go after it on his own."

Scared as she was, Faith realized it was nothing compared to the fear that filled Dean's voice as he continued to slam around the room. Feeling as if she'd awoken in another universe, Faith asked, "Gone after what?"

"The killer," Dean snapped. "And I think the little bastard drugged me."

"Wait, what?" Faith asked suddenly wondering what she'd done in allowing the two seemingly nice men inside her house.

It was then she realized that her guardian was no where to be seen. No way would Frisky have stood by while some man growled his way around the room. "Where's Frisky?"

"She's not here, she must have gone with him," Dean responded in a rough voice as he pulled open the refrigerator door.

The idea that her dog, her best friend, had gone off into the woods with Sam on some kind of macho mission to catch a criminal scared Faith more than waking up in the hospital stone cold blind had done.

"Where did he go?" Faith demanded as she reached out blindly and managed to grab a scrap of Dean's shirt. "Where?"

"I don't know, I just know its bad," Dean said, as he shook off her grip.

Faith, running on instinct, never stopped to think about what she was doing. Instead, she raced for her room, listening with all her might for the sound of Dean's departure. Quick as she could she stripped off her flannel PJ's and slipped on a pair of jeans. She dropped to the bed with a thump and dragged on a pair of thick wool socks, and her best hiking boots. Grabbing up a sweatshirt, she was still fastening her bra as she moved into the living room.

"I'm coming with you," Faith said firmly, as she threw herself toward the sound of Dean's thumping boots.

888

Dean didn't notice when Faith left the room. He barely noticed when she returned wearing nothing more than jeans, a black bra, and a pair of hiking boots. However, when she threw herself in front of him and declared she was going with him, he took notice.

"That's quite the fashion statement?" he snapped, suddenly furious at the girl for wasting his time. The need to find his brother was like an itch he couldn't scratch. The longer it took him to gather supplies the worse the itch.

"I'm coming with you," she ground out, as she drug on a thick fleece sweatshirt. Before he could answer, she was heading for the kitchen closet. From its depths, she removed a backpack.

The sight of Faith packing did what her words could not, they stopped him in his tracks, a bottle of water in his hand. "I'm sorry," Dean said with a shake of his head, "I misunderstood, what did you say?"

Faith hoisted a huge backpack up on her tiny frame and extended the cane with a grimace. Obviously ready to go, she gestured toward the door and said, "I'm going. I know the woods ten times better than you. Without me, you'll never find him."

Dean stood dumbfounded as the girl moved toward the front door, threw the lock, and opened it. He hadn't even realized he was standing still with what he could assume was a stupid look on his face until she walked out, leaving him behind. With a shake of his head, he grabbed up the last of his supplies and followed her out the door.

Once out on the porch, Dean moved to block Faith's way. He folded his arms across his chest and stood up straight. As he drew in breath, his chest heaved appreciatively. He scowled at the petite girl in front of him, every inch of his six-foot frame screamed power, every rock hard muscle shouted control and intimidation.

It was only as Faith readjusted the straps of her backpack, seemingly without a care in the world did he realize that he was trying to visually intimidate a blind girl. He very nearly slapped his forehead in frustration until he realized that she would most certainly hear it and question.

"You're not coming. I have to move quickly and you're not going to be able to keep up," Dean stated flatly, even though every nerve in his body screamed at him to hurry.

Faith stared calmly up at Dean and said simply, "How are you planning on stopping me?"

At this thought, a million ways of stopping the irritating girl came to mind. However, the idea that perhaps she would be able to find Sam faster stayed his hand. The night before, she had regaled with stories of the surrounding acres. Sam and Dean had been equally surprised to find that she still actively hiked.

Desperate and unable to deny Sam every chance, Dean lightly grabbed Faith's wrist and started down the stairs all the while grumbling about how he was gonna skin his baby brother alive once he found him.


	8. Chapter 8

Once they'd reached the drive, Faith yanked her hand free from his grip. He opened his mouth to chew her out for being stubborn and refusing help, only to snap it shut when she in turn grabbed his arm, just above his elbow. Satisfied that she meant to let him help, he placed his hand over hers for a moment and led her on.

"What's in the garage?" She asked, proving once again that her sense of direction was nearly perfect.

"Thermal blanket for Sammy. We keep one in the car."

As he stepped up next to his baby, he placed Faith's hand on the fender and moved to grab the blanket out of the back seat. When he straightened back up, he noticed she was trailing one hand along the shining black metal of the Impala.

"A Chevy right?" She questioned as she ran her hand over the emblem on the front grill

Dean started in surprise and replied, "Yeah."

Faith nodded and continued to feel her way. "Um...late sixties?"

Dean confirmed, "She's a 1967 Impala."

Satisfied that he had covered all bases, he quickly folded the blanket and stuffed it into his already full pack. He wouldn't allow himself to consider the fact that it might be too late. Problem was as he glanced out toward the bright sunshine of the new day he couldn't help but shiver with fear. His brother, if able, would have made it back by now.

Faith stood back and said, "I bet she's beautiful. My Dad owned a '69 Chevelle, God how I loved that car. I sold it a year after he died, I couldn't drive it, and a car like that deserves to be driven." Faith moved away from the vehicle and leaned against the outside of the garage.

Dean felt a moment's pity for the woman that was staring sightlessly out into the morning light. Her face was turned up and she seemed to be soaking up the heat.

Just then, as if she felt his pity, Faith turned toward him and said, "We planning on moving on today?"

Dean snorted a laugh, yeah pity, right. How could you feel pity for a girl that had so much going for her? Dean moved toward her intending to lead the way. He took her hand, placing it on his arm, he said, "Let's haul, ass," and headed for the wooded path leading away from the cabin.

Faith kept hold of his arm, and applied her cane to the rough terrain. As they moved, Dean began to see signs of Sam's size fourteens. "He came this way."

"He would have had to, the underbrush in the forest is thick. Moving through it would have slowed him down too much."

At first, he worried that Faith would slow him down, however, she showed no sign of tiring and other than an occasionally stubbing her toe she remained sure-footed.

They had been walking for close to an hour, when Dean heard an earsplitting whistle coming from directly behind him. With a curse, he spun and almost took aim, stopping only when he realized that the incredible noise had come from Faith. As he watched she let go with another one.

Then she seemed to stop breathing as she concentrated on hearing a response. Dean kept his eyes pinned to her and stopped drawing in air himself. At last, she shook her head and nodded for him to continue.

"I gotta say that was impressive; you'll have to teach me how to do that," Dean said as he continued to lead the way. "Think it'll work for, Sam? I swear, I spend half my days looking for that boy."

"My Dad taught me, if Frisky can hear it, she'll come."

Dean didn't need to see her face to understand what she left unsaid.

"I was 7 when he taught me," Faith said with a low laugh. "I got sent to the principal's office eight times that year in school. Teachers didn't appreciate my talent quite so much."

Dean grinned, he could just imagine a young redheaded little girl causing havoc with her earsplitting whistle.

From then on, they fell into a pattern. Roughly every fifteen minutes, Faith would tug him to a stop and she'd let loose another whistle. Each time it was greeted with silence, Dean could see the Faith's upset growing.

As they continued, Dean couldn't ignore Faith's pain. As much as she was worried for Sam, he knew that her fear for Frisky was ten-fold. The dog was not only her best friend but also her right hand. Without Frisky, Faith's life would be radically changed.

"So, you ready to tell the truth, yet?" Faith asked as she released his arm and swung her pack off her back. She stared in his direction and removed a bottle of water from her pack. Once she had taken a sip, she held the bottle out and waited to see if Dean would take it.

Dean accepted the drink and sipped from it before he gave one last attempt at bluffing his way out of this mess. "Didn't I already tell you?"

Faith snorted and accepted the bottle that Dean placed in her hand. "Please," she sighed, "I really think the time for bullshit has passed. You can trust me you know; Sam and you are good guys. I know that. "

Dean began walking again, absently grasping her hand, and placing it on his arm. He found himself divided. Part of him wanted to tell Faith the truth, to unload his worries on someone else for a while. The other part was afraid of her reaction. Finally, he decided to split the difference.

"Sam and I really are hunters, but more like bounty hunters than cops. The person we're after is dangerous and basically insane. If we can't manage to stop him then a lot more people are going to get hurt." Dean glanced at his watch and surprised to see it was after one o'clock.

Faith said nothing for a while. At last, she said, "Fine, if that's what you want to tell me." She then gripped his arm tighter and reassured him, "Sam's gonna be okay. If he were dead, Frisky would have come home. It's a good sign that she's still watching over him."

Dean didn't bother pointing out that if they were both dead, then that would also stop her from coming home. Instead, he accepted the comfort and firmed his resolve.

"They're okay, and we're going to find them both."

Faith's statement brought a smile to Dean's face. Yup, pity was defiantly wasted on this one.

It was close to two-thirty when Faith let go with another whistle, this time while she paused, Dean kept moving. He couldn't shake the sudden feeling that something was desperately wrong. He was only a foot away when she snapped, "Quiet"

Dean stopped on a dime and turned. Faith stood in a shaft of late afternoon sunlight a look of intense concentration on her face. It was obvious she'd heard something that his careless ears had missed. He was careful to make no sound, he even held his breath so as not to distract her.

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Faith stood on the path her head cocked to one side and let out another whistle. There, she thought to herself, she turned slowly left and concentrated with everything she had. She began walking forward off the path, disregarding the tree branches that pulled at her hair and scratched at her face. She was close to stumbling now, the branches, rocks, and tree roots beneath her feet causing her to lurch.

She could almost hear it, and yet she was scared that it was simply a sign of her desperation rather than Frisky's insistent bark. As she stumbled hard once more she felt Dean take her arm, adding his support. She had to admit she was grateful for his help.

"I think...," she murmured, as she kept moving forward.

Suddenly, Faith turned off the path heading straight through the thick underbrush. Jerking out of Dean's grasp, she broke into a lurching run, her arms held out in front of her as she called for Frisky.

"Faith," Dean shouted as he quickly overcame the distraught woman.

"Let me go," She cried as she struggled against his hold.

Afraid that she would hurt herself, Dean gripped her tighter and shook her lightly. "You're no good to them hurt. Just stop and talk to me."

At his words, Faith sagged a bit and stopped fighting him. Tears leaked down her cheeks making trails in the dirt on her face and there were fine scratches from the bushes on her forehead. Drawing in a deep breath, she said, "I know where they are. At least where Frisky is, I heard her."

"Okay then, just let me help you."

Faith nodded, took his arm, and pointed. "We need to head that way, straight as you can."

Straight as he could wasn't all that straight, Dean thought, as he bushwhacked his way through the thick forest. They'd been walking no more than five minutes, when Dean thought he heard a faint noise. Excitement flooded through him as he realized the noise he was hearing was Frisky.

"Do you hear her Dean, she's on her way." Faith said with conviction.

For the first time since he'd started out on this trek, he became impatient with Faith's slower pace. He could now clearly hear Frisky's joyous bark as they got closer.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled hoping to hear his brother's reply now that they were closer. The silence was like a punch in the gut. It left him feeling sick to his stomach and short of breath.

"He's okay," Faith insisted as they at last burst through the undergrowth and into a clearing.

Dean didn't want Faith's false assurances. He knew his brother well enough to understand nothing short of unconsciousness or death would keep his brother from replying.

"He's alive, Dean. If he wasn't Frisky would be with us right now. She doesn't want to leave him."

For some reason the idea that Faith's dog was unwilling to leave his brother, did help to elevate some of Dean's worry. At least Sam wasn't alone. "Where?" he asked as he rounded the corner of an outcropping of boulders.

He had no warning as a streak of silver suddenly rocketed into him. The dog managed to take out both Dean and Faith in one well-placed tackle. The creature then began to give Dean a tongue bath as she growled madly. Faith laughed, the sound so full of joy you'd have thought it was Christmas morning, instead of a cold wet spring day.

"Good, dog," she praised over and over as she received her share of tongue.

With a shove at the manic dog, Dean gained his feet and began to scour the ground looking for his brother. "Sammy!" he called hoarsely.

Frisky seemed to understand, as she leapt off Faith and darted around the rocks with a yowling cry. Dean didn't bother to wait for Faith, he just took off after the dog.

There on the far side of the outcropping was his brother. Sam lay sprawled out on the ground, though Dean could see the rise and fall of his chest, the older hunter couldn't help but notice the blood that was caked around Sam's temple. The blood, not to mention the fact that Sam had been lying in the air for over twelve hours didn't bode well for the young hunter.

"Damnit, kid," Dean chided as he knelt down at his brothers side.

"Dean," Faith called out as she suddenly appeared, one hand trailing along the rock.

"I've got him," Dean offered, "looks like he hit his head pretty hard."

The redhead released her pent up breath and edged closer. Once she neared Dean's side, he held out one hand to her. "Take my hand."

As Dean reached out and grasped her small cold hand he couldn't help but regret all the trouble they'd brought to her life. With a gentle tug, Dean drew her closer and helped her to knee.

"He's okay?"

Dean nodded and returned to his brother, only to realize what he'd done. "Yeah, lucky the kid's got a hard head."

Faith's head dipped forward and she reached out finding one of Sam's hands and picking it up gently. Frisky obviously content in a job well done, curled up against Sam's legs with her heavy head resting on his knees.

"He's so cold," Faith murmured as she began to chaff his hands.

As Dean studied his baby brother's pallid face, he felt his breath hitch. He quickly began cataloguing the injuries that he could find. Sam lay slightly on his side, his head resting on a large flat rock that lay half buried in the ground. There was blood on the rock and Dean easily found the cut that was hidden under Sam's mop of brown hair.

His brother's face also had a couple minor scratches, but nothing a little antibiotic cream couldn't fix. Dean straightened Sam's limbs as gently as he could, searching for broken bones or bleeding. The lack of visible bite marks made him feel slightly better. At least until he found the claw marks on Sam's left leg.

Dean ripped the leg of Sam's jeans even more in order to get a better look. "Shit, this looks bad," Dean said as he noted the four deep wounds.

With a sigh, he knelt back and took in their surroundings. They were at the foot of a mass of rock and boulders that climbed the side of a mountain. Near as he could tell, they were, at least, a couple hours from the cabin and his brother was in need of medical attention. What made the situation worse, was the fact that Dean had no idea if his brother had gotten the werewolf.

Faith gently set Sam's hand down with one last pat, and pulled her backpack from her shoulders. Her whistle had Frisky popping upright and ready to go. The redhead began to digging through the bag until she at last pulled out the dog's working harness. In no time at all, she had slipped the harness on the dog and was on her feet.

Keeping one hand on the boulder, she allowed Frisky to lead her forward, trusting in the dog's training. "I know where we are. There's a cave just around this rise. Well," she amended, "not a cave so much as a series of rocks that caved in on each other. It's dry though, and I've used it before."

Dean sighed and cursed once again. "Sounds like we'll have to, I don't like the idea of dragging him out in the dark. Show me where the cave is and we'll get him settled."

As he watched, Faith moved along the base of the rock, one hand trailing lightly on the wall and the other resting in Frisky's thick fur.


	9. Chapter 9

The "cave" that Faith had shown him to wasn't much. However, as she had promised, the three huge slabs of slate that formed the walls provided more than enough shelter. As an added bonus there was only one way in or out and that was easily defended. The thick rock blocked the wind, and would help hold in the heat.

It was obvious that Faith spent a lot of time here. Upon entering, she'd dropped her pack with a thud, and had then set about laying out a flannel lined table cloth. With the plastic side down, it had proved to be an efficient barrier from the damp floor for Sam. Once he'd set his brother upon the cloth, she had ordered Dean to stay out of the way. As she bustled around, she chatted, explaining that she often camped here and had for years.

"We're actually only about two hours from home. In the morning we'll be able to follow the path back to the cabin."

Faith's words made him reconsider staying for the night. If only he knew for sure, whether or not Sam had killed the creature he could be sure of his decision. Finally he accepted that it was a necessary evil to stay put after all there was no way, Dean could drag Sam out while keeping watch over Faith.

From his position next to Sam, he had a clear view of the slightly elevated entrance. If anything approached he would see it before it could get inside. As he opened his own pack and began to pull out supplies he couldn't help but admire Faith's self-assurance. She looked as comfortable here as she did at home in her cabin.

With a sympathetic wince, Dean began cleaning the head wound, which was still bleeding sluggishly. His brother had come to only once since Dean had carried him in here and in that brief moment he hadn't replied to Dean's whispered questions about the wolf. The elder Winchester knew there was little more that he could do other than watch and wait.

As he worked on Sam, Faith had begun unloading her pack. He couldn't help but marvel at the shear amount of crap she pulled out of her bag. The fact that she'd managed to carry it so far and without complaint was a feat in and of itself.

With Sam settled and being attended, Faith next moved to the fire ring that sat at the back of the structure. It was neatly positioned just under a gap in the rocks. Next, she'd moved toward the wood pile that was neatly stacked and began placing pieces into the ring.

Dean had watched her for a moment, before judging that she had it all under control. He turned his full attention to his brother. It took fourteen stitches to close the wounds on the back of Sam's calf and an entire bottle of water to thoroughly clean Sam's head wound. As he cleaned up his supplies, his gaze strayed to where Faith was coaxing the fire to life, her hands already hovering over its slight heat.

Content that he'd done the best he could given the circumstances, Dean pulled the thermal blanket higher beneath his brother's chin and sat back. He was concerned with how cold Sam's skin was despite the fire that was slowly warming the air around them.

As he pushed Sam's thick bangs away from his bandage, Dean found himself wondering what his baby brother had gone through. Lying his hand on Sam's forehead, Dean whispered, ""Stupid ass, you should have let me go with you,"

He had no clue how he was supposed to keep Sam safe when his brother kept taking off on him. His greatest fear was that when the time came to truly save his brother, Dean wouldn't be there. He knew how to fight, knew what it took to destroy evil, however, keeping Sam safe from himself was something beyond Dean's skills. If his brother wouldn't allow him to help, then what was he to do. Dean ran a tired hand across his face and carefully adjusted the covers once more.

Dean's attention was drawn toward Faith as she moved to his side towing her pack behind her. As she settled in, she pulled out a bottle of water and took a large drink. Next she'd handed the bottle to Dean. Careful to take only a sip, he was surprised when she refused to take the bottle from him.

"Drink, you're going to need your strength to get him back home tomorrow. We have plenty," Faith said.

Dean took the bottle, but didn't drink. "I only brought two bottles and I used one to clean Sam's wounds. We need to make it last."

Faith didn't acknowledge Dean, instead she began pulling out the supplies she had brought.

Dean's eyes grew large as he watched her unpack. He couldn't help but admit he could take some lessons on survival from Faith.

First, she stacked the three bottles of water she'd brought, against the wall. Next, she set down water purifying tablets, a fold up dog bowl she'd brought for Frisky, and a large selection of granola bars. She then pulled out a pair of heavy winter gloves, a black knit cap, and several hand-warming packets. These she tossed to Dean.

"Put one in each of his shoes and one into each glove, and see if you can manage to get them on without hurting him."

Dean quickly complied, grateful for her forethought. Reaching into the bag once again, she pulled out two tin cups and a couple packets of instant coffee. Faith held the cups out to Dean, asking that he fill them and set them near the fire.

Near giddy at the thought of coffee, even the instant kind, he watched in anticipation as she reached in once more. This time she brought forth a pack of hot dogs. Salivating at the sight, Dean groaned in ecstasy.

"Have I told you I love you?" he asked as he ducked outside in search of a couple of sturdy sticks.

As he turned back, ready to return to Sam and Faith he noted that the afternoon light was waning. He couldn't help but frown as he cast an wary eye around their makeshift campsite.

Confident that for once there was something he could do better than the blind girl, Dean took the pack from Faith and said, "I'll do these."

Faith nodded and stood. "Fine by me, I always end up burning them. I'm gonna walk to the creek for water, and um..."

Dean watched the fair-skinned girl blush as she stammered. Left with no doubt of what else she was going to do, Dean warned her, "Just hurry, its getting dark out fast."

Faith gave him a single shrug and said with a hint of humor, "The dark is never a problem for me."

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Faith left the warmth of the cave, and her two companions, and stepped out into the chill evening air. From the mouth of the cave, she put one hand to Frisky's harness and began counting her way to the creek. Once she'd watered the dog, she moved into a convenient stand of bushes and quickly did what needed doing.

As she allowed Frisky to lead her back to the rocks, her thoughts drifted toward the unconscious man in the cave. Her hope had been to find Sam with something simple like a twisted ankle or a wrenched knee. Not, a tricky head wound. Faith knew first hand the damage that a head wound could cause.

With a quick prayer sent heavenward for Sam, Faith released Frisky and allowed the dog a moment to take care of her own bathroom needs. Confident in her location, she began to edge her way back toward the men.

It was then she tripped and fell. Landing hard on top of something, she gasped trying to replace the air in her empty lungs. At her first intake of breath, she barely bit back a scream as she realized what she'd landed on. Guh, she thought, for friggin' sake, why on god's green earth did she continually trip over dead people. To make matters worse, this time the cold, lifeless, body beneath her was naked.

"Crap," she cursed aloud as she gingerly rolled off him.

This time Faith didn't even bother feeling for a pulse, the man's lightly hair covered leg was cold and unmistakably stiff. She pushed herself to her feet in one smooth motion and yelled for her dog. "Frisky!" she snapped, anger causing her to snap out Frisky's name louder than she intended.

The dog reached her side in a second. This time Faith didn't bother with the harness, she simply laid her hand on the dog's back and made her way to the cave.

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Dean glanced up at the entrance of the cave at Faith's approach. He noted how dark it had gotten outside, and made a mental note to keep Faith and Frisky in the cave for the rest of the night. As she stepped into the bright light of the campfire, he couldn't help but notice her ridged stance and pale face.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

The redhead drew in a deep breath and then released it. "Everything's fine. "Well," she amended, "everything except the dead man I just found in the forest."

Faith paused for a moment, as if to allow her words to fully sink in, before she continued. "The one lying naked in the woods. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"

Dean swallowed audibly and struggled to find something to say. At last, he decided that the truth would serve him best, or at least as close to the truth as he dared. "Sam must have caught him?"

"Ah yes, the infamous killer," Faith growled, "so what? He was running through the forest naked and Sam shot him or maybe Sam shot him and then stripped him naked?" Faith crossed her arms and glared toward Dean.

Dean felt himself breaking into a sweat. "He must have been naked. The guy was crazy."

Faith nodded. "Sure of course, he was crazy. I mean after all that's what you told me. God knows you're a pillar of truth."

Anger suddenly flared up in Dean, he was sick of this, sick of having to hide every aspect of his life. Sam was a hero. His brother had destroyed a creature that would have continued killing for god only knows how long. In fact, its next target most likely would have been the woman that was glaring down at him.

The fact that Faith had the nerve to question Sam's act, to judge them made him lash out. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Hell, you'd probably run screaming into the darkness."

Faith stood steady in the face of his outburst. At last, she took a step closer to the fire, and sank gracefully down onto the hard ground. She offered one hand up to him and said, "Try me."

For a moment, he could do little more than stare down at her outstretched hand. He knew how this would end, and it wouldn't be good. However, he found as she stared up at him with her beautiful green eyes he couldn't deny her. He owed her the truth in exchange for her kindness, even if it made her afraid of him.

Dean gripped her hand for a moment before he released her and took a seat on the far side of Sam. He wanted to put some distance between them so she wouldn't feel threatened.

"My name's Dean Winchester, Sam and I are brothers," Dean confirmed. "We didn't lie to you, we were tracking a killer. Only he wasn't human, at least not completely.

Afraid of what he'd read in her expression. Dean kept his eyes resolutely on Sam as he continued. "We hunt the supernatural. Spirits, demons, and even a god or two, we've spent our lives tracking down evil and destroying it."

This time Dean chanced a look. Faith's face was indecipherable, it had become full dark outside and the light of the fire cast her face in shadows, helping to hide her thoughts.

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Faith didn't know what to say. Of all the things that Dean could have told her, this was one she could honestly say she hadn't expected. She had listened to his words, and heard the sincerity in his voice. The challenging pride in the insane words he'd uttered.

A chill swept over her, despite the fire, making her edge closer to where she knew Sam lay. Once by his side, she gently picked up his gloved hand and considered everything that Dean had told her. The easiest path would be to dismiss his words as the ranting of a lunatic. Problem with that solution, was that no one who'd spent even five minutes in the company of the brothers would be able to dismiss them outright. There was simply something about them that lent validity to Dean's words. Maybe it the guarded way they spoke, as if they carried secrets that weren't meant to see the light of day, or the fact that a few home cooked meals were greeted as if they were manna from heaven.

Or, maybe it was fact that she wanted to believe in his words. More than she'd wanted anything in a long time she wanted proof that not everyone moved on, that some spirits lingered in this world long after they should have departed. She'd seen many things in this world that couldn't easily be explained away.

The months she had laid in a coma were a prime example. She had awoken from that time, already well aware that her father was dead. The doctors had insisted it was simply something her subconscious had picked up on, but Faith knew better. Her father had come to her, he'd sat by her side to say goodbye. She had wrapped her arms, both free from the casts that were the result of two broken arms, around him and he'd whispered his love for her.

Her quiet conviction, that she'd glimpsed her father's fleeting soul, had sent the doctors into fits. They'd offered up many excuses for her "dream" that included, massive head trauma and even subconscious coping. At last she'd let it drop. She knew the truth and that would have to be enough.

"What was Sam chasing? What attacked you?"

Faith nearly laughed as Dean blew out his first breath. It was obvious he had figured her on freaking out. Her calmly asked question seemed to surprise him. She had to admit, she couldn't blame him for his worry, after all she probably should be afraid, or at the very least more skeptic, but honestly the need to believe was greater than her fear.

"We were hunting a werewolf, it's been roaming the countryside for about four months now."

Faith did jerk slightly at the words 'werewolf'. She couldn't help herself, the idea that such a creature was real wasn't an easy idea to wrap your head around. Trying to cover up her surprise, she asked, "Those dogs done yet? I'm starving."

For a moment, her words were greeted with silence, then at last, she could hear Dean preparing the food.

"Sam researched the area and came across several articles about some hikers that were killed. We looked into it and here their hearts had been removed, that's kind of a werewolf M.O."

Faith nodded faintly at his words. "Uh, huh," she mumbled, while she tried to retain her composure.

With a slight chuckle, Dean nudged the hand that still gripped Sam's, and said, "Careful its hot."

She accepted the heat of the tin cup with a sigh of pleasure. The smell of coffee, even instant, had always had a calming influence on her.

"The deeper we dug, the more we found, animal mutilations, mountain lions, deer and even people's pets. The local papers were insisting on blaming it on a rogue bear but we knew better. Here's your dog,"

As the familiar feel of a stick brushed against her hand, Faith gripped automatically. She had to admit, though that Dean's words had done a number on her appetite. "Thanks," she said weakly.

This time Dean's chuckle was more pronounced.

Somehow the warm sound, coaxed and answering smile from Faith. She took a tiny bite of her hotdog, while she turned over everything Dean had told her. At last, a long lost memory came back to her with a vengeance. "Mrs. Culpepper was killed two months ago, she was out hanging laundry, they blamed it on an animal attack. Plus Sara Bentley's dog, Rafer, disappeared around the same time." Faith's hand edged outward as she patted the warm thick furred back that was pressed up against her.

"Yeah, it was Culpepper's murder that caught our attention."

"Man, that's just weird," Faith said as she took a larger bite of her dog.

"You're preaching to the choir here, sis. Weird is our life."

Faith was pretty sure that no words had ever held more truth. "So, is it like Silver Bullet?" she asked referencing the 80's movie starring Corey Haim.

Dean laughed lightly and nodded. "Silver bullets are the only thing that'll kill them."

Faith nodded seriously and sipped her coffee, she knew she should have a million questions to ask him, but she couldn't seem to get her brain in gear.

"Faith?" Dean questioned, as he cleared his throat.

Hearing the trepidation in his tone, Faith braced herself for his next words. Given what he'd already spilled she couldn't imagine anything that made him hesitate would be easy to hear. "Yeah?"

"How come you believe me? I mean, you're not the first girl I've told, but, you're the first one that didn't throw things at me."

Despite his light tone, Faith knew the question was anything but a joke. She had little doubt that what the Winchester men did, put them on the outside of humanity looking in. "No ammo," she joked lightly as she held up empty hands. "You mentioned spirits?"

"Yeah..."

Faith's hope that her voice hadn't betrayed her was dashed when she heard Dean's cautious reply. Oh, well, she figured, she'd already started why stop now. "You've seen spirits, ghosts?"

"Angry spirits, Sam and I banish them, stop them from hurting people."

With a jerk, Faith lifted her fact to meet Dean's. "Not only evil people become ghosts, right? I mean sometimes good people don't move on right away, right?"

"I don't know what kind of reassurance you want, Faith. Most people move on when they die. Those that stay behind, usually do for a reason. More often than not, those reasons are an intense love or more commonly hate."

Faith closed her eyes on sigh, intense love. That had to be it, he'd stayed behind to say goodbye, to remind her that he loved her. The scuff of a boot heel on the rock alerted Faith to Dean's presence only seconds before she was wrapped in his embrace. Thankful for the touch, she laid her head on his chest and concentrated on his heartbeat. His arms warmed her in a way the fire hadn't managed.

"Do you want to tell me who you saw?"

At first, she didn't answer, she was too afraid the sound of tears would be clear in her words. Only once she'd gained her composure back did she finally answer, "My Dad, just after the accident. Everyone told me I was crazy, but I know he was there."

"I don't doubt you. But, I'm also sure he moved on, once he said goodbye."

Comforted in more ways then one, Faith leaned against Dean for another moment before pulling away. With a wry grimace, "Sorry," she said as she wiped away the few tears that had slipped down her cheeks and picked up her coffee.

Dean rested one blazing hot hand on her back, and rubbed, easing the tension from her form. At last, he broke the contact and shifted away. Faith had to admit it was probably a good thing. It would have been too easy to sink into that warmth, to find solace in the strong man at her side. That would be a mistake of epic proportions. She wasn't a love 'em and leave 'em kinda girl and she had a feeling that one night with Dean would forever haunt her.

With her hunger assuaged, Faith sidled up to Sam and laid down. Frisky quickly settled in next to her, with a soft sigh. As she lay, considering everything she'd just learned, she listened to Dean settle things to right. He moved around the cave, efficiently putting away supplies and tossing more wood on the fire. At last, he seemed to settle on the far side of Sam, hemming his brother in between them.

"So, did you guys just think this hunting thing up while playing dungeons and dragons in the basement or were you like giant Buffy fans that decided to take it to the next level?"

Dean snorted and asked, "Do we look like a Buffy wannabes? That show had more things wrong than right."

The hunter seemed to think about what he'd admitted, and then hastened to add, "I mean, I guess they did. Its not like I ever watched. Well, maybe I caught an episode here or there, but it was only 'cause Buffy was such a babe, and well, you know, lesbians are hot."

Faith laughed aloud at Dean's rambling speech and scooted closer to Sam's side. She had to admit, the tall man made an excellent space heater. "Of course. So, if you're not a wannabe, then how did it happen? And don't feed me any crap about lousy guidance counselors."

"We got into it like most hunters, only at an early age. A demon killed our Mom, Dad became a hunter, and we just followed in his footsteps."

The pain in Dean's voice when he spoke of his parents came through loud and clear. Not wanting to add to it, Faith kept her questions more clinical in nature. "There's other hunters?"

"Yup, there are people all over that spend their days destroying evil, saving people."

Faith worked to make sense of all he'd told her as her eyes dropped shut. At last she yawned widely and asked, "So, do you two have proton packs stashed in the truck of that car?"

Dean laugh was low and honest as he replied, "Nah, nothing so complicated. All it takes is a little salt and burning the bones to rid the world of a nasty spirit.

Another thought occurred, to Faith. With a frown, she sat up and looked toward Dean. "You're not gonna cut off my cat's head are you? I'm pretty sure he's not a zombie."

"Naw, If I choose to cut the beast's head off, it'll be because he keeps trying to steal my dinner."

Faith smiled and lay back down. "So what's real? Vampires?"

"Yup," Dean answered. "You have to cut their heads off."

"Zombies?"

Dean answered, "Silver stake pinning them in their graves."

"Telekinetics, fire starters?" she asked, fading fast.

Dean answered with chuckle, "You read too much King."

"Clowns?" Faith questioned with a hint of unease, she'd always had an irrational fear of the creepy jokers.

Before Dean could answer, a weak voice interrupted, "Clowns kill."

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Suddenly wide-awake, Dean sat up and leaned over his brother.

Sam lay looking up at him, trying to focus. With a groan, the younger Winchester clenched his eyes tight and drew in a deep breath.

"Sammy! Thank god, you scared the hell out of me."

Sam lifted one shaky hand to his eyes and covered them. "Sorry, dude, I didn't mean to worry you. Where the hell are we?"

Faith answered softly, "We're in a cave not far from where we found you. It was too late to head back to the cabin."

Sam tried to gather his thoughts; the last thing he remembered was shooting the werewolf through the heart. "I got it, Dean," he said, with a careful glance at Faith.

"Its fine, Sam, I told her," Dean replied leaning over to place one cool hand on his forehead.

The feel of his brother's work roughened hand helped to ease the last of Sam's tension. Dean was here, so everything would be fine.

"Boy," Sam mumbled, "you really suck at the whole 'keeping it a secret' thing."

Dean's voice became defensive as he muttered, "Yeah, well, braniac, she stumbled over the corpse, kinda hard to hide it after that."

The hand on his forehead gently pushed back his bangs, lulling Sam back to sleep. Just before he drifted off, he heard his brother sigh.

"Soon as you get your feet under you, I'm gonna knock you back down. You can't keep running off on me kid."


	10. Chapter 10

Faith awoke with a start, as she tried to remember where she was. The undeniable feel of a man at her back brought everything into sharp relief. "Sam," she muttered as she turned to face the sleeping man. She would have found it embarrassing to wake up spooning a stranger, if only she wasn't freezing. She actually contemplated crawling on top of him in order to get warm, but the lure of building up the fire was stronger. While Sam made for a good heater, the parts that weren't pressed against him were simply too cold.

Careful to disturb neither man, nor Frisky who lay at her feet, Faith felt her way across the cold dirt floor, coming to rest only inches away from the fire ring that now held only coals.

She carefully fed the fire, until heat began to pour off of it. Confident that it was going good, she tossed a few more logs on, and took a moment to warm herself. It was while she sat there, her cheek resting on her drawn up knees that she heard a noise. For one small moment, everything Dean had told her earlier came flooding back and she had to bite back the urge to scream.

Before the panic could really get a grip, the more reasonable side of her nature exerted itself, providing her with a simple answer. Most likely it was Dean, she told herself. He'd probably gone outside to relieve himself. Buoyed with confidence, Faith moved toward the spot where Dean had been sleeping earlier.

Expecting nothing more than the hard, damp, floor, Faith nearly screamed when her hand ghosted over Dean's warm shoulder.

Another noise, this one definitely coming from outside the cave, held Faith frozen where she sat. Concentrating on the noise, she distinctly heard the sound of shuffling footsteps, followed by heavy breathing. A strong animal scent reached her nose, and causing her to recoil slightly. Unable to deny her senses, Faith began to shake.

Carefully, she reached out and placed her hand on the hunter's chest and nudged him.

One minute she was sitting by his side, and the next, she was pinned beneath him, something sharp pressed against her throat. So swift and silent had been the motion that she hadn't even had time to yell.

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For one beat of his heart, Dean pushed the blade deeper into his assailant's neck. Then like a blow, the scent of Sunflowers reached him, causing him to draw back and lower his weapon. He reared up above her, ready to ream her a new one, when he noticed her heavy breathing and wide eyes. Something was wrong, the girl was seriously freaked.

Before he could open his mouth, wrapped her arm around his neck and drew him in close, as if she were bestowing a kiss.

Instead, she'd whispered. So softly, he almost believed he imagined it, she breathed, "Listen".

Dean closed his eyes to cut out distractions, and slowed his breathing. As he strained, he caught the faint but distinctive sound of something large moving through the undergrowth. A snuffling sound, as if the creature was testing the air, came next.

Dread ripped through him as he realized just what it was that lingered outside the cave. Sam might have killed one werewolf, but he hadn't gotten the second.

Although he had trouble making out her expression, given the dim light, he had no trouble interpreting the shudders that were moving through her body. She was no longer lying stiff beneath him, instead it felt as if she were trying to burrow her way into his very skin.

He didn't want to tip off the creature, so he placed his cheek against hers and very deliberately nodded his head to show he understood. At his wordless confirmation, Faith's shaking increased, though she still made no noise. Though he hated to leave her, he needed rolled off her and grabbed the gun he'd placed on top of his duffle earlier in the evening.

Compassion rolled through him as he returned to Faith's shaking side. How easy it was to forget she lived in a world that depended on her sense of sound, more than any other. Lying there on the rough dirt ground, all alone except for the creature that she could surely smell must have been beyond terrifying. With a patience that went against his every instinct, he reached out and grabbed hold of the redhead's hand.

Though she still made no sound, she gripped his hand as if it were her only lifeline. Dean couldn't help but grimace at the realization that it was. Drawing her up, he shoved her toward the still form of his brother and pushed her down, until she was nearly on top of him. Then he forced himself to let go of her hand.

Without yesterday's storm darkened clouds, the full moon shone brightly lighting up the entrance of the cave. Just outside of the rough stone walls, Dean could make out a hulking shape. With his gun in hand, he began to ease himself around Sam and Faith. Though he didn't doubt the creature could clearly make out his outline, the monster made no move to attack.

In fact, if Dean wasn't mistaken, it looked as if the werewolf wasn't even focused on him. Without halting, Dean scoured the small cavern looking for what might be holding off the creature.

It was then his gaze lit upon Frisky. She stood just to the left of the opening, her four huge paws planted firmly in the dirt, her body tensed to spring. Her lips were drawn back in a silent snarl, and the moonlight glinted off her blinding white fangs.

With Sam and Faith at last behind him, Dean took advantage of the beast's distraction and fired, two quick shots straight for the creature. The blasts knocked the monster backward, but did not kill it. Before he could head after the werewolf, Frisky flung herself before him and darted out into the night.

"Stay put," Dean yelled as he followed the dog out of the opening.

888

Sound asleep one moment, and the next having a warm body land on him, had Sam waking up with a start. As his eyes flew open, he saw Faith, her face pale in the firelight, as she stared toward the opening of the cave.

Sam turned his head, swallowing back the bile that flooded his throat at the motion, and followed Faith's gaze. There, illuminated in the moonlit night, was a duplicate of the creature he'd destroyed last night. His brother, gun in hand, was working on placing himself between Sam and the monster.

He knew his brother would do anything he could to keep the creature from entering the tight confines of the cave. They would all end up slaughtered, or worst yet bitten if they had to fight in the small area. Frisky stood poised by the door, ready to do her best to defend them all. Faith had yet to crawl off him, her elbows were digging painfully into his side as she kept her face focused toward Dean.

Sam felt as if he'd awoken to a nightmare. One in which everything he'd been trying to prevent in the first place was about to come crashing down. Now, as an added bonus, he found he was having trouble focusing for more than a second at a time.

As two gunshots rang out, Faith's elbows dug deeper as she jumped in surprised. Sam saw the creature fly backward, and watched Frisky lunge as she took off after it. His brother's shouted 'stay put' meant nothing to Sam as he unceremoniously dumped Faith off him and scrabbled for the weapons bag, dragging his injured leg behind him.

He had just about reached it when a wave of dizziness rolled through his head, making him loose his focus.

"Sam," Faith suddenly called out, with all the fear in the world in her tone.

With a groan, Sam answered her, "I'm here. I just..." Sam never got to finish his sentence as his stomach rolled and he found himself dry heaving.

The gentle fingers that reached out and lightly caressed the skin at the nape of his neck, were steady. "Just stay put,"

For a moment, Sam didn't think he'd be able to do much else, at least, until he heard his brother curse, long and fluently. The accompanying growls from Frisky had him pushing up from the floor with a groan. "I have to get out there."

Faith shoved him, easier than he would have thought, back to the ground and practically sat on him once more.

"No, I can't let you go out there. You're in no shape to fight that thing."

"Dean, Frisky," Sam reminded her.

Even in the dim light, Sam could see the tears that leaked from Faith's unseeing eyes. "Even she's not worth your life."

"And my brother?" Sam ground out as he moved to shift the redhead off him.

"I can help," Faith stated, her conviction coming through loud and clear.

Sam rolled his eyes at the woman's bravado and promptly regretted the action as he began dry heaving once more. "Guh," he moaned at last.

"Just stay down," Faith whispered.

888

Even without the milky white glow that bathed the forest in light, Dean would have had no trouble locating Frisky and the monster. The dog was nothing more than a flash of silver as it darted in and out, snapping at the enraged creature. The werewolf seemed to have a healthy respect of her snapping teeth.

The malamute's saving grace was her speed. The werewolf seemed unable to guess where the dog would strike next. Bleeding from not only the two bullet wounds but also from half-a-dozen bite marks, it kept howling in frustration. The problem was, Frisky would soon tire, leaving her vulnerable to attack. Even just the slightest contact from the creature's razor sharp claws, or worse yet a bite would be enough to end the dog.

Unable to take a shot with Frisky in the way, Dean aimed his weapon and shouted, "Frisky down!" As he'd hoped the dog dropped where she stood, leaving the werewolf exposed. Without hesitation, the hunter fired.

This time, not only did his shot fail to hit the heart, but it also barely even slowed the creature. Before he could turn and run, the werewolf grabbed him by the arm and tossed him toward an outcropping of rock.

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Faith could clearly hear the battle that raged outside the cave. Twice she had tried to go to Dean's aid but both times, Sam had roused himself enough to stop her. He had convinced her to get his pistol out of the bag and had managed to get himself in an upright position. Where his arm brushed hers she could feel the convulsions that wracked his body. She was pretty sure he'd managed one nasty concussion. Sitting up, not to mention trying to focus, only served to make him nauseas

As she felt the tension slip from his body, she began easing away. She was only a couple inches from him, when a heavily muscled arm pulled her back.

"Stay," he ordered, as he had at least four times before.

She just barely managed to hold back a growl as he threw her own words back in her face. This time, Sam didn't release his hold on her. At first, she just assumed it was because he had wised up but as his body began to slump down, Faith got the impression he was simply out of strength.

Dean's voice ripped across her mind, focusing her once more on the fight that raged outside. The ensuing gunfire, followed up by a particularly vicious snarl from Frisky made it clear that the creature still lived.

Desperate to be more than a sitting duck, Faith decided on a new tact. She forced herself to relax, leaning fully against the hardened hunter. As expected, Sam took her sudden pliability as a sign of defeat and automatically eased his grip.

Faith schooled herself to patience as Sam's arm loosened even more. She knew he held his pistol in his right hand, and she very carefully began feeling for it. As her hands at last caressed the cool metal of his gun, taking in another small breath, she moved. Grabbing the gun, she darted out of his grip. Letting the sound of Frisky fighting be her guide, Faith made her way out of the cave.

As she slipped outside she moved to the left of the cave opening, the pistol a familiar weight in her hand. She suddenly found herself thankful that she'd spent so much time on the practice range. Target shooting had been a favorite pastime of her and her fathers, and after his death she had kept up her skill for no reason other than she thought he'd be pleased. Though her skill now depended on her hearing, versus her eyes, she was every bit as proficient as she had been before her accident.

Placing her back to the stone, wall, Faith listened as she never had before. In her mind, she began tracing the sounds of the fight. It wasn't long before she could ignore every sound, but the labored breathing of the beast.

Different from Frisky's quick pant, or Dean's shallow breathing, the sound rasped in and out like a saw, making it easy for her to track. She had no intention of firing into the mêlée, but she also refused to allow anything past her. If nothing else, she would protect Sam.

Then she heard an unmistakable yip, followed by a heavy thud. Tears filled her eyes and coursed down her cheeks as she waited for her beautiful dog to gain her feet. No matter how she listened, she couldn't hear Frisky's familiar pant any longer. Desperate to hold onto her control, she worked to convince herself that the dog was simply stunned, or at worst unconscious.

888

Pain flared up his spine and exploded at the base of his head as he slammed into the rock. Dean slumped to the ground, gasping for breath. Unable to move, he felt the werewolf slam into him with a force that snapped his head back once more. The creature, all two hundred pounds of him, then dropped onto his chest effectively trapping him.

As Dean struggled to draw breath, the monster bent low, his hot fetid breath caressing the elder Winchester's cheek. Saliva dripped off its razor sharp teeth and ran in rivulets down the hunter's neck.

"Guh," Dean groaned as he forced his arm up under the werewolf's chin, holding off the powerful jaws that snapped just inches from his face.

Claws raked his sides, the heavy canvas of his coat the only thing stopping them from penetrating. Fatigue was starting to play a factor in the stalemate as Dean worked to maintain pressure against the beast.

Then, with a ripping growl second only to the werewolf's own snarl, Frisky was there. Her silver tipped coat flashed in the moonlight as she clamped her jaws around the brute's wrist and pulled.

Frisky tugged backward, jerking the creature across the hard-packed dirt. Careful to keep out of reach of the monster's claws, she pulled the beast well away from Dean.

Gasping for air, Dean braced his arms against the earth and shoved, gaining his feet in one pain filled motion. While his head pounded out a tempo to rival any hard rock beat, his chest throbbed to his pulse. If the blood that now saturated his shirt was any kind of indication, he could bet his brother's fine needlework was ruined.

Braver than he could ever have imagined, Frisky kept the werewolf distracted. She continued to rush the creature, coming at it from all sides. She was putting her natural born agility and strength to the test though, and he could hear that her panting breath had increased from the exertion.

Determined to help the dog, Dean gazed around the clearing trying to pinpoint the pistol that had flew out of his hand on impact. Unfortunately, the decaying leaves and scrub hindered his hunt.

It was then, he heard Frisky yowl in pain as the creature finally got lucky. The pain-filled sound, was followed by a thud that made Dean feel sick. Fear gripped him tight as he turned.

He had no problem locating the loyal pup. She lay unmoving and sprawled across the ground. The beast gave a triumphant cry and moved in for the kill.

Again, Dean scanned the area looking for something to catch the werewolf's attention. It was then he saw Faith.

She stood to the left of the entrance. In the moonlight, her pale skin rivaled only the moon itself for brightness. She stood pressed against the rock, Sam's pistol gripped in her hands. The barrel of the gun pointed toward the sky and she faced the direction of her dog.

Out of options, Dean shouted, "Faith shoot!"

888

With Dean's shout, Faith felt her whole world shrink into a pinpoint of sound. No longer did she hear Dean's quick breathing, or the stream that was only feet away. She drove out even the sound of her own heartbeat pounding away in a tempo that was much too fast.

Like peeling away the layers of an onion, she worked until there was only one noise. The heavy ragged breathing of a creature that did not deserve to live. A monster that had stepped out of the pages of a book to wreak havoc on her normally staid life. A beast that had killed her only family.

She focused on that sound until it was her life, until it was a beacon that she couldn't resist. Then she aimed and squeezed the trigger.

The two quick bursts of noise that cut out all other sound were expected. What was not was Dean's sudden cry of triumph.

Faith was unable to process just what Dean was saying, all she could comprehend was that he seemed to think the threat was over.

"Faith, give me the gun,"

Sam's gentle voice reached out and caressed Faith, chasing the last of her strength away. His strong arm wrapped around her and drew her toward his chest. She welcomed his warmth and sank into him.

"Let go, Faith," he reiterated as he tugged at her hand.

It was only then she realized she still gripped his gun. Forcing her fingers to relax their hold was easier said then done. In the end, Sam had to pry it away from her.

"You're sure she got it?" Sam asked, his voice little more than a rumble against her ear.

"Yup, he's transforming already," Dean muttered.

Though Faith knew what they were saying was important she couldn't seem to focus on their words. The hollow ache in her chest was growing by the moment, threatening to swallow her whole.

"You okay, Sam, you look like shit?"

Dean's words, heard as if through cotton, began to take on meaning as she felt Sam slump slightly. Then as if his knees let go completely she was suddenly struggling to hold him up as his brother raced to his side with a shout.

"I got him." The elder Winchester said as he eased his brother out of Faith's faltering hold.

Sam's face was held a greenish tint and he was swallowing heavily. His tightly closed eyes, made it clear that his nausea had returned with a vengeance.

Now alone, she could hear Dean muttering from inside the cave, she began shaking with cold. Without Sam's strength, her knees buckled and she sagged to the wet ground. Though she knew when the time came she would go on, at the moment she couldn't foresee a future where she wouldn't desperately miss her companion and friend. Frisky wasn't just a way to gain freedom, she'd been a confidant and source of comfort.

So lost in her heartache was she that she didn't hear the slight whine right away. It was only after a scrabbling noise reached her ears that she fully processed what she was hearing. With Dean working to steady his brother, that left Faith, the dead werewolf and Frisky's body outside.

Fear clamped down hard on Faith's chest as she considered what it meant. Two werewolves had been killed so far, but who was to say there wasn't three. After all, it wasn't like there was a werewolf handbook. Everything was based on superstition and trial and error.

Maybe, her overwrought mind considered, there was a third and he was stalking her right now. Once the idea had taken root, Faith began to hear more sounds, rough breathing and a snuffling that made her cringe back against the rock. Her fear had paralyzed her to the point where the scream that was building inside of her couldn't get past the lump in her throat.

Hot breath caressed her cheek only seconds before something rough and wet ran up her face. Unable to hope for fear of crushing disappointment, Faith kept her hands locked into first at her side, even as her mind registered the familiar dog breath.

With a head butt that nearly knocked her over, a warm familiar lump dropped onto her lap with a weary sigh. The sigh did it, only her Frisky could convey such annoyance with a single sound. Church received that same sigh every time he insisted on giving the big dog a tongue bath.

"Frisky?" she whispered as she forced her hand to move.

The dog nudged her reluctant hand, gave it another lick, and uttered one more sigh. Faith plunged her shaking hands into the thick fur of Frisky's neck, and promptly buried her face in her beloved dog's shoulder.

888

"'m fine, check on Faith," Sam insisted before he took a careful sip of the water his brother held out to him.

Dean didn't bother to answer his rock stubborn brother. As it was, it had taken all of his patience to convince the kid to allow Dean to play doctor once more. Sam had been lucky. As he'd drug his leg across the rock floor and then had pulled himself up by the doorway, just in time to see Faith kill the beast, he'd managed to rip only one small stitch.

The elder Winchester had considered it another lucky break in a night full of good luck. He had to admit, it made him more wary than usual. Good luck wasn't something that often struck and when it did, there was usually a catch. Afraid that Sam's concussion was the catch, Dean had insisted on getting the kid settled.

"Dean, whose blood's on your shirt?" Sammy suddenly asked, sounding more coherent then he had in the last twenty minutes.

"There's no blood, Sammy," Dean said as he carefully patted his brother on the shoulder and backed away. "Just the light playing tricks on you. Get some sleep."

Dean didn't give his brother a chance to respond. Instead, he gimped his way out of the cave and into the fading moonlight. He shot a grim look toward the man that now lay on the forest floor. The man, who looked like more like a lawyer than a mindless killing machine, would have to be dealt with. The problem was, Dean knew he was in no shape to do it right now.

He would simply focus on getting Faith settled and then he'd allow himself to collapse, after all, the body'd still be there come morning.

"Faith," Dean called softly as he turned toward the young woman that was holding onto her dog for all she was worth.

The redhead gasped at his call and looked up at him with tear-laden eyes. "Dean, look. She's okay," Faith sobbed as she tightened her grip on the dog.

Frisky, for all she was allowing the embrace turned to stare up at Dean as if asking for a little help. Dean couldn't help but remember the days when a young Sam would often cling to him in just such a way.

With a gentle pat for the brave dog, Dean eased himself down to Faith's level. "Hey there, what's with the waterworks?"

"Sssshhheee...I...sheee...dead," Faith stuttered as wracking sobs shuddered there way through her.

And in that moment, Dean did understand and hated himself for inflicting this kind of pain on the girl who'd saved his life. "Aw...Faith, honey, she wasn't gone. I checked on her as soon as the bullet left the gun. She was just a bit woozy."

Dean expected his confession to produce a number of emotions in Faith. What he'd been hoping for was gratitude. What he got was a poorly aimed blow that managed to catch him in the ear.

"Damn, that hurt," he snapped as he reared back out of the blind girl's damage path.

"I thought she was dead," Faith whispered.

It was then Dean truly looked at the green-eyed girl. Her vivid red hair hung in strands in her face, and her skin was so white, she resembled a corpse more than the warm-blooded woman he'd come to know. Even as he watched a fresh course of tears slid down her cheeks.

Faith sniffed loudly and scrubbed her sleeve against her arm, "I thought she was dead," she reiterated in a somewhat more normal voice.

Compassion swamped Dean, overriding all else. "Come here," he said as he wrapped one arm around her shoulder and settled her close. He sighed in relief when the girl made no protest, but instead snuggled down into his arms. A struggle wouldn't have been conducive to the pain in his chest.

"I'm sorry, it just never occurred to me that you needed reassurance. The son-of-a-bitch, just knocked the wind out of her."

As if to prove Dean's words, Frisky crawled closer, pressing her flank to Faith's side with a happy little growl.

Seemingly, content for the moment, Faith kept one hand on her dog, and one on Dean's knee. After the night she'd suffered, he had no doubt she craved physical proof that all was okay once more.

At last, he shifted slightly, the hard ground making him ache in all new places, and groaned, "Let's get inside. We'll catch a few hours sleep and get Sam home tomorrow."

Faith nodded eagerly and gained her feet. Hand resting on Frisky, she gave Dean a shadow of her normal grin and asked, "So anyway big hunter, how come a girl had to go and save your ass?"

Having already gotten flak from his little brother, Dean just shrugged off the insult and replied, "Next time you're free to handle it yourself."

Faith let out a low laugh and shook her head. "Next time, no way. I had my fill of weird tonight."

Once inside the cave, Dean moved to help Faith settle back in next to his brother. The girl's hand on his wrist as she stopped him, caught his attention. "Do you mind if I sleep between," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Even in the dim light of the fire, Dean could see the bright red blush that was snaking its way up her cheeks.

"Course," Dean replied casually as he positioned her between him and his brother, "besides I'd much rather sleep next to you than big foot over there. I warn you he kicks."

"Dean?"

At the question in her voice, Dean turned to look at Faith. She lay on her side facing him, her large green eyes roving even in the dim light. "Yeah?"

"It's dead, right? I mean like dead, dead."

"It's dead," he replied as he slipped his arm under her head. "That was a pretty good shot, you know. Sam and I should take you on all our hunts."

Faith laughed and replied, "Yeah, just point me in the right direction and I'm good to go."

Just when he'd thought Faith had drifted off, she asked, "Witches?"

Dean grinned and nodded. "Real and nasty, you do not want to piss one off."

Faith laughed softly and said, "That sounds like experience talking. Loch Ness?"

"Real, lake monsters like Nessy are found all over the world."

"Leprechauns?"

"From what I understand real, although we don't have them here. Oh, and there's no pot of gold, just a mouth full of teeth that are quicker to bite than a Chihuahua." Dean felt the lingering tension fade from the redhead's body.

With a huge yawn, she replied, "That's the way of the world isn't it? Sharp teeth and no gold at the end of the rainbow."

Dean couldn't help but agree as he pushed her tousled hair from her face. "Yeah 'fraid so."


	11. Chapter 11

Faith stood under the warm shower spray and tried to wash away the tension that still gripped her. Two days ago, they had arrived back at the cabin, with Sam in tow, only to spend the rest of the day patching each other up and sleeping off the trials of the day before.

A large part of the patching up process involved Sam yelling at his brother, as he re-sewed Dean's original wound. Dean took it all in stride, and then proceeded to have several 'medicinal' slugs of tequila before dropping exhausted into bed. Faith had followed, happier than she had expected to slip into her crisp clean sheets, with Frisky's warm weight trapping her legs.

Though they'd awoken after noon on the next day, Faith had insisted on making a breakfast feast that they'd all thoroughly enjoyed.

Even Frisky and Church had gotten in on the occasion. Frisky from the morsels that both Sam and Faith slipped her, and Church from the sausage's she managed to steal from Dean's plate when the hunter went to refill his coffee.

Though they'd all originally looked like extras from a Dawn of the Dead movie, they were healing nicely. Sam's leg only gave him a slight twinge now and again, and the bump on his head was nearly gone.

Dean's wrist was re-wrapped and looking less like a break every day. His chest was another matter, but as he pointed out every time his brother brought up the subject, he'd had worse.

Faith had come through the ordeal without a scrape, though she had a feeling she'd be dealing with emotional scars for a long time to come. At the very least, she wouldn't be camping any time soon.

As Faith shut off the water and moved to dry off, she acknowledged to herself just what the boys healing meant. Soon, they'd climb into their classic car and roar down her driveway and out of her life. She could't help but feel sad as she considered the fact that she would never see them again.

Faith sighed as she pulled a brush through her still wet hair. Letting go of people wasn't something she had much experience with. Normally the people that she cared for were taken from her. This time she'd have to let them go voluntarily.

Determined to do right, Faith quickly dressed and headed into the living room. She would smile and wish them the best. There would be plenty of time, once they left to wallow in self-pity.

The TV was on in the living room and she heard the announcer state, "Most major and minor roads are still closed due to flooding. Local authorities expect the water to recede by morning making the local roadways passable."

"Well, looks like we're still stuck. You mind putting up with us for one more night?" Sam asked as he moved to the television to turn it off.

Faith grinned and waved toward the couch indicating he should relax. "Mi couch es su couch," she replied as she began a mental list of what she could make for dinner.

888

Faith stood on the porch, listening to the low rumble of the Impala. Sam and Dean had loaded up earlier and were ready to head out. Frisky stood at Faith's side, pressing gently against the young woman's legs. Faith appreciated the contact, it made it easier to reign in her emotions.

She heard Sam's distinctive tread as he came up the porch steps. His arms slipped around her back and he whispered, "You be careful."

Faith gripped him hard and growled back, "You be careful, Sam. Keep each other safe."

She pulled back slightly and turned her face up towards his. With a little shake, she reminded him, "Remember, fate's a load of bullshit. We make our own destiny."

Sam's low laugh was his only reply as she released him and he stepped back. "You just remember if you need us we'll be here."

Faith nodded and smiled at him, "I've got it."

Sam gave her one last squeeze before pulling away to wait for his brother. Dean came up the stairs next, the sound of his boot heels like a heartbeat as he made his way toward her.

Determined to keep her promise to herself, Faith sent him her best smile and said, "You take care of yourself, Dean Winchester."

The hunter leaned in close and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I always do."

Faith nodded, as she heard him drop to the deck to say goodbye to Frisky. He then gained his feet and headed down the stairs, Sam on his heels. As she listened to his steps carry him farther and farther away she couldn't help but feel as if she'd missed an opportunity.

As she reassured herself that it wasn't making a fuss to simply say goodbye a little more thoroughly, Faith clamored down the steps and followed.

888

Sam turned back at the sound of Faith hurrying down the steps. His brother had also stopped, to see what was wrong. With quick hands, Dean reached out and grabbed Faith, halting her forward momentum.

The youngest Winchester watched as his brother frowned in confusion and opened his mouth to question Faith. However, before Dean could form the words, she reached up and firmly grasped his head. With a smile that lit up her face, she then pulled him toward her and kissed him thoroughly.

He couldn't help but watch with glee, as Faith proceeded to kiss the hell out of his big brother. Then a few minutes passed and Sam felt himself growing embarrassed. The two were still lip locked and showed no sign of parting.

Finally, Sam cleared his throat as a reminder that they weren't alone. Faith's response was to hold up a hand, gesturing for a moment more. With a roll of his eyes, Sam turned away from the couple and began to whistle in an effort to block out the noises the couple were making.

A moment more and Sam would have gotten the hose, at least that's what he told himself, as Faith finally leaned back, putting a bit of space between her and Dean. His brother's self-satisfied smirk would have been insulting if Faith's grin wasn't every bit as bold.

"Sam, I dropped a little something in your bag for you to remember us by," Faith called out as she consciously stepped even farther back from Dean.

"Thanks again, Faith," Sam called out as he climbed into the passenger side of the car.

He watched as his brother gave Faith one last hug before he turned for the car. Dean had just gotten settled into the drivers seat when Faith called out.

"Unicorns?"

Dean laughed long and hard as he leaned past Sam to smile at the redhead's impish grin. "Well, we ain't seen one yet, but I'm not ruling anything out."

Faith's laughter was the last sound they heard, as Dean put the car in gear and started down the long driveway. Sam reached back for his computer bag thrust one of his hands inside.

There at the bottom was the small carving of Faith and Frisky. He held it up so his brother could see it and then tucked it carefully back into his bag.

As he made himself comfortable for the trip, he turned and asked, "So where to?"

Dean's grin flashed as he glanced at his brother and said, "Pet Cemetery in town, thought we'd do some diggin'"

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's enthusiasm and leaned his head back. He closed his eyes, content for the moment, as the car ate up the miles.

"Sam, is it me or does the car smell like wet dog?"


End file.
